The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!
Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.In you the wars…
How can new media be used for serious artistic purposes and how can we create a suitable critical vocabulary for this? What is the relationship between digital writers and the commercial world of ‘gaming’. Who are the audiences for digital writing and how can they be accessed?
Mix: Merging…
My reading of the poem is consensual.
Upon a superficial reading, William Butler Yeats’s “Leda and the Swan” may seem like a bizarre depiction of a powerful swan raping a helpless woman. However, upon deeper penetration of the poem, it is clear that Yeats is using the swan and Leda as an allegorical representation for the brutal nature of mankind.
Trying to remember you
is like carrying water
in my hands a long distance
across sand. Somewherev people are waiting.
They have drunk nothing for days.
Your name was the food I lived on;
now my mouth is full of dirt and ash.
To say your name was to be surrounded
by feathers and silk; now,…
Does everyone have to die? Yes, everyone.
Isn’t there some way I can arrange
Not to die—cannot I take some strange
Prescription that my physician might know of?
No. I think not, not for money or love;
Everyone has to die, yes, everyone.
Cannot my banker and his bank provide,
Like a trust…
Hunting Horns (Cors de Chasse), Guillaume Apollinaire
Our history is noble and tragic
Like a tyrant’s glaring mask
No hazard nor magical drama
No trivial detail
Makes pathos of our love
Opium possessed de Quincey
Chaste poison drunk to Anne
He dreamed his life away
On on since all must past
I’ll frequently turn back
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies out along with the wind
Hunting Horns (Cors de Chasse), Guillaume Apollinaire
Our history is noble and tragic
Like a tyrant’s glaring mask
No hazard nor magical drama
No trivial detail
Makes pathos of our love
Opium possessed de Quincey
Chaste poison drunk to Anne
He dreamed his life away
On on since all must past
I’ll frequently turn back
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies out along with the wind
They Lived Next Door to Mermaids, Stephanie Valente (for 9/12)
the house was new
untouched by ghosts
or the dead who like
to sing
the weeds were growing,
we took a spade
hooking through, like
a needle
into the hearth of dirt
until he found red again
as we laughed
despite all the water.
