The silence of the falling vase before it strikes...

Billy Collins, Poet Laureate, 2001-2003

Silence

There is the sudden silence of the crowd

above a player not moving on the field,

and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase

before it strikes the floor,

the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,

the silence of the moon

and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,

the silence of the window above us,

and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning

which I have broken with my pen,

a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house—

the silence before I wrote a word

and the poorer silence now.

KINGDOM OF EXILES by Gary Lemons

A man stands on the corner

Of a busy street asking people around

Him for help. His hand is out.

A small dog curls on an old army

Coat at his feet. It’s his coat. Each

Of the faded medals acquired in exchange

For the rest of his life. The man is, what,

Hardly visible. The dog adores him.

There is a force between the man,

The dog and me. The shadow on us all.

It’s an understanding about separation.

About night and day. It’s two straddling

One. If anyone looks they remember

The man and the dog or they remember

Me. No one remembers all of us. Only

The bird flying. Not the sky.

The money in your pocket is mine.

The joy or sorrow in my heart is yours.

The muscle, the meat, the sloping

Line of that hill, the cold fog rising

From the wreckage of love. Ours.

I want to put my heart in his hand.

Instead I collect shadows, bring them

Home and drink what’s left of them.

When I die I’ll be the thing in your mirror.

Kali Yuga by Charles Farrell

This is the photo that Kevin Carter, a South African war photographer, was famed for. The picture won a Pulitzer Prize. It depicts a dying Rwandan child with a vulture waiting in the background. The irony of fame coming from such a source later drove Carter to suicide.

KEVIN CARTER

HI TIME MAGAZINE HI PULITZER PRIZE
TRIBAL SCARS IN TECHNICOLOR
BANG BANG CLUB AK 47 HOUR

KEVIN CARTER

HI TIME MAGAZINE HI PULITZER PRIZE
VULTURE STALKED WHITE PIPED LIE FOREVER
WASTED YOUR LIFE IN BLACK AND WHITE

KEVIN CARTER X3

THE ELEPHANT IS SO UGLY HE SLEEPS HIS HEAD
MACHETES HIS BED KEVIN CARTER KAFFIR LOVER FOREVER
CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK
CLICK HIMSELF UNDER

KEVIN CARTER X3

Music by James Dean Bradfield, Sean Moore and Nicky Wire
Lyrics by Richey James

Rubber Johnny, by Chris Cummingham

Have a nice day! [oh, and, yes, Click Here]

...on the edge of the road.

Stanley Kunitz, Poet Laureate, 2000-2001

An Old Cracked Tune

My name is Solomon Levi,

the desert is my home,

my mother's breast was thorny,

and father I had none.

The sands whispered, Be separate,

the stones taught me, Be hard.

I dance, for the joy of surviving,

on the edge of the road.

...stealing home...

Jackie Robinson takes off from third and 

steals home 

in one of the most dazzling feats 

of World Series history. 

Game 1, 1955 World Series, 8th inning, 

the Brooklyn Dodgers trailing 

the Yankees 6-to-4. 

The Dodgers won the Series.

Robert Pinsky, Poet Laureate, 1997-2000

To Television

Not a "window on the world"

But as we call you,

A box a tube

Terrarium of dreams and wonders.

Coffer of shades, ordained

Cotillion of phosphors

Or liquid crystal

Homey miracle, tub

Of acquiescence, vein of defiance.

Your patron in the pantheon would be Hermes

Raster dance,

Quick one, little thief, escort

Of the dying and comfort of the sick,

In a blue glow my father and little sister sat

Snuggled in one chair watching you

Their wife and mother was sick in the head

I scorned you and them as I scorned so much

Now I like you best in a hotel room,

Maybe minutes

Before I have to face an audience: behind

The doors of the armoire, box

Within a box--Tom & Jerry, or also brilliant

And reassuring, Oprah Winfrey.

Thank you, for I watched, I watched

Sid Caesar speaking French and Japanese not

Through knowledge but imagination,

His quickness, and Thank You, I watched live

Jackie Robinson stealing

Home, the image--O strung shell--enduring

Fleeter than light like these words we

Remember in, they too winged

At the helmet and ankles.

This Helene Knoop portrait is so like a dear friend of mine that it's astonishing! The title practically cinches it: Comfort.

Tom Waits - Innocent When You Dream

Tom Waits - Way Down in the Hole

love is greedy

Robert Hass, Poet Laureate, 1995-1997

The Yellow Bicycle

The woman I love is greedy,

but she refuses greed.

She walks so straightly.

When I ask her what she wants,

she says, “A yellow bicycle.”

Sun, sunflower,

coltsfoot on the roadside,

a goldfinch, the sign

that says Yield, her hair,

cat’s eyes, his hunger

and a yellow bicycle.

Once, when they had made love in the middle of the night and it was very sweet, they decided they were hungry, so they got up, got dressed, and drove downtown to an all-night donut shop. Chicano kids lounged outside, a few drunks, and one black man selling dope. Just at the entrance there was an old woman in a thin floral print dress. She was barefoot. Her face was covered with sores and dry peeling skin. The sores looked like raisins and her skin was the dry yellow of a parchment lampshade ravaged by light and tossed away. They thought she must have been hungry and, coming out again with a white paper bag full of hot rolls, they stopped to offer her one. She looked at them out of her small eyes, bewildered, and shook her head for a little while, and said, very kindly, “No.”

Her song to the yellow bicycle:

The boats on the bay

have nothing on you,

my swan, my sleek one!

Makinti Napanangka (ca 1930 - 2011)

Makinti was one of the most exciting contemporary Aboriginal artists painting. Amongst the oldest of Pintupi women painters, Makinti was often compared to Emily Kngwarreye. The reason why such comparisons get made is Makinti’s confident, yet loose “old woman” style of painting, the beautiful light effects she achieves, and the bold lyricism of her brush strokes. In the January 2003 issue of Australian Art Collector she was named as among the top fifty of Australia's Most Collectable Artists.

This painting depicts designs associated with the rockhole site of Lupulnga, south of the present day Kintore community, home to many important Pintupi artists. The Peewee (a small bird) Dreaming is associated with this site. In the Dreamtime a "mob" of ancestral women visited this site before continuing their travels north to Kintore.

The lines in this painting represent spun hair string, used in the manufacture of hair string belts, worn during the women's ceremonies associated with this place. Hair string belts are often used symbolically to represent the act of women dancing. The belts, worn above the hips have dangling strings often with feathers attached which swing about as the women dance highlighting their attractiveness.