golden paperplanes
I think writing
is desire
not a form
of it. It’s feeling
into space,
tucked into
language
slipped
into time,
opened,
felt. All this
as a matter
of course
of course
yet being
here somehow
open
i once wrote a poem titled
“we were paper airplanes chirping atop a knitted telephone wire.”
i should definitely probably make this.
From Eric Gill’s beautifully illustrated 1931 version of the Four Gospels. Gill was a controversial British typeface designer, sculptor and printmaker. If you’ve ever used Gill Sans font, you owe this arts & crafts Socialist a thanks. I saw this today at the Harry Ransom Center in Austin—if you ever have the chance, go there.
(Source: pict-designers)
LBJ and LBJ (lyndon baines johnson and lady bird johnson). Texan heroes of mine.
(Source: clintonesque)
thank you to mary for showing me these.
“Lake Rousseau, 1931”
by artist Amy Friend
artist on the work:
“Through small deliberate interventions, I altered these vintage images, allowing light to pass through them. (After all, photographs are made possible with light.) In a literal and somewhat playful manner, I aimed to give the photographs back to the light, hence the title of the series, Daré alla Lucé, an Italian phrase used to describe the moment of birth.”
did you know raspberries are pretty much my favorite fruit? I wrote this in high school:
she was the hollow part
where all the little seeds
came together to make one big fruit.
she was the five innocent raspberries
on his five little fingers.
and also this:
Some days, I was a haystack and others I was a raspberry. When I was a raspberry I felt all right; being hollow fruit was much easier than the other thing. But I did not mind being over stuffed with the millions of whispers from the hay because I was good at keeping the secrets of the horses and the earth and it was good to be a part of something and nothing all at once. But it was lovely to be hollow.
source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/-dlb-/3666568558/
(via thenommables)
from the 1956 western “Giant” with Elizabeth Taylor and James Dean. Filmed in one of my favorite places, Marfa, TX.
“You’re a Texan now, Honey.”
I can’t remember the 2nd
time I hurt you—
it was dark & someplace
in that darkness
was the thing I did.
You weren’t the target, I
know that, though
you might’ve been the bow
& the tension
I really think is love.
Nothing ever sends me away.
I’ve got your pain
in my pocket &
it glows in the dark
and in the light
it’s the softest kind
of singing woman’s voice.
That’s who you are. To me, I mean.
Let me hold your shoulders
back so you look
arrogant & beautiful
welcoming me into the warm
sad party. Let this
be the unfortunate hat
I hang outside the door
if only you will
allow me to come in.
[1979]
Eileen Myles
(Source: asuddenline)
