Posts Tagged ‘love’
CHLORIS IN MORE VOICES
CHLORIS IN MORE VOICES

My third blog post for the Poetry Foundation’s Harriet is a continuation of the second: it thinks through Amelia Rosselli’s imagination of the nymph Chloris, and the ramifications of treating Chloris, represented by both Botticelli and Rosselli in choked polyphony, as a figure of translation. “Translating, and retranslating, Rosselli’s late distressed pastoral over the years […]

OPEN LABORATORIES ON HOLLYWOOD BLVD.
OPEN LABORATORIES ON HOLLYWOOD BLVD.

please join us for the launch of the INSTITUTE SUMMER SESSIONS: OPEN LABORATORIES at WUHO’s Spatial Research Facility SATURDAY, MAY 9 7-9 PM 6518 Hollywood Boulevard Los Angeles, CA 90028 http://wuho.architecture.woodbury.edu For the summer of 2015, the WUHO Gallery on Hollywood Boulevard is being transformed into an open laboratory. Work on emerging spatial environments will […]

SOFT VORTICISM
SOFT VORTICISM

Worth the sweltering heat of stone discharged from the arbors of the living, amplifying the rise and fall of expectations to locate any trace of memory of the fratelli Rosselli in this their first burial site: a stone’s throw from Toklas and Stein, a porquoi become genital and mouth of Jacob Epstein’s direct carving softened, […]

ONLY IN PARIS
ONLY IN PARIS

On the way from voodoo exhibition to Tamaas seminar in translation: passionate bisous for philosophers.    

INSIDE THE FOUNTAIN
INSIDE THE FOUNTAIN

Scoping it out at a press conference overlooking the whole city: the space we’ll perform in (Exit 43 with the Difforme Ensemble) before bidding goodbye to the site of Rome’s preGothic sustenance and our ravishment.  

WORLD CITY (HENDRIK ANDERSEN, ARDOR)
WORLD CITY (HENDRIK ANDERSEN, ARDOR)

Henry James ardently to the friend (lover?) Hendrik Christian Andersen, coaxing his companion toward specific lived experiences and places, expressing doubt regarding “any use on all the made earth … for a ready-made city, made-while-one-waits, as they say, & which is the more preposterous & the more delirious, the more elaborate & the more ‘complete’ […]

IL CAFFÉ,…DOLCE, AMARO, INDOMABILE SERPENTE
IL CAFFÉ,...DOLCE, AMARO, INDOMABILE SERPENTE

Delighted to find a poem by the counter of the Casa del Caffé in the Campus Martius—a tradition in Italy, it seems—so that even the hairdresser’s business card is full of rhymes— “Coffee, it rustles my soul, like wind on the mount that breaks in amongst the oaks and loosens and agitates the limbs, sweetbitter, […]

JANICULUM/LIMITLESSNESS
JANICULUM/LIMITLESSNESS

“YOU…SPACE WITHOUT LIMITS” Sensing exactly what the vandal means, gazing out beyond the cordoned Villas, cordoning Cupola and its arcade embrace, at this pastel haze in company.  

NO GESTURE IS COMPARABLE TO THE LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU
NO GESTURE IS COMPARABLE TO THE LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU

Is the message on the aqueduct that has become bench, carpet, stadium seat for these Romans. Thinking it in retrospect & somewhat belatedly true.  

BOOKS AS BALLS
BOOKS AS BALLS

Why shouldn’t poems roll across the floor? From Emilio Villa’s The Rolling Balls: Hydrological Antistructures, With 6 Silkscreens (Rome: Edar, 1969), in collaboration with Silvio Craia and Giorgio Cegna….

TORQUE
TORQUE

& the proposal some days ago to climb a sinuous Scarpa “tromba delle scale” / “conch-shaft of stairs— that’s how, late one night, we solved the phrase in translation of Amelia Rosselli’s “The Libellula”— wrong foot first: more infant steps up through the byways of history & love at first insight, & second & third.

TOY HORSES
TOY HORSES

In this museum at Castelvecchio reconfigured like a game of chess, where the becoming-aesthetic of civic objects such as requisite ubiquitous equestrian statues on our floors become platforms, surrounded by virtual moats, triggers not a thinning of substance, but some brief redemption of charging history— as the windows drop veils on the heroes, as the […]

PREVAILING, LOVE
PREVAILING, LOVE

Love cancelling love against all chancels, trespassing crossbars toward a serenade perch at the Capulets’.

YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT SORROW, BUT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW MY NAME
YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT SORROW, BUT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW MY NAME

Reeling from the loss of a pillar of the poetry and activist communities, today I am wishing that the death of Akilah Oliver’s son Oluchi McDonald, the graffiti artist “LINKS” (1982-2003), in a beleaguered Los Angeles hospital will not have been in vain. Temporarily uninsured, black, male, and therefore invisible, he was neglected and died […]

DIGITAL PANIC
DIGITAL PANIC

And the dawning in corporal terms that life mediated, in its entirety, through this remote apparatus indeed implants in a mere, after all, and very temporary human the yank of neglect.

DOCUMENT AS LOSS
DOCUMENT AS LOSS

“Well you’ll just have to document them,” says Simon upon my inexplicable sadness. Dreams of limbs missing or tense after operation linking one to biology across the waters. Capriciousness of pixels and the strange emotional recovery implicit in digital salvage. Sharing the choice of representative image.

A WISH FOR VALENTINE’S DAY
A WISH FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

From a country that hasn’t, despite every marketing effort, adopted it as commercial enterprise: that redefinitions of relations continue to press toward equity, here, where the gender gap is such that it scores 74th among world nations (meaning, to choose a seemingly petty example, that 95% of Italian males have never operated a washing machine)— […]

INFANT
INFANT

Momentousness as infant hue captive in unexpressed digits, waiting to be discharged in the procession of daily remark, patient habit of this gift of time, of noticing presence, here inserted hurriedly in the place of the week’s missing record, wordless, taking on words: “[I]t is as if the acquisition of language were possible only through […]


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