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Life, Life : Arseny Tarkovsky poems

1 I don’t believe in omens or fear Forebodings. I flee from neither slander Nor from poison. Death does not exist. Everyone’s immortal. Everything is too. No point in fearing death at seventeen, Or seventy. There’s only here and now, and light; Neither death, nor darkness, exists. We’re all already on the seashore; I’m one … Continue reading

Wei Wu Wei: “For Sile” / Shōmei Tōmatsu

I am the sea too, and the stars, the wind and the rain, I am everything that has form — for form is my seeing of it. I am every sound — for sound is my hearing of it, I am all flavours, each perfume, whatever can be touched, For that which is perceptible is … Continue reading

Vladimir Nabokov “A Letter That Never Reached Russia”

“Listen: I am ideally happy. My happiness is a kind of challenge. As I wander along the streets and the squares and the paths by the canal, absently sensing the lips of dampness through my worn soles, I carry proudly my ineffable happiness. The centuries will roll by, and schoolboys will yawn over the history … Continue reading

Fukuda Chiyo-ni: one of the greatest poets of haiku

dragonfly hunter how far has he traveled today I wonder?  Chiyo-ni Said to be written after the death of her son. Her only child. . Fukuda Chiyo-ni (Kaga no Chiyo) (福田 千代尼; 1703 – 2 October 1775) was a Japanese poet of the Edo period, widely regarded as one of the greatest female haiku poets. … Continue reading

The Beat Generation – Jack Kerouac

Now it’s jazz, the place is roaring, all beautiful girls in there, one mad brunette at the bar drunk with her boys. One strange chick I remember from somewhere, wearing a simple skirt with pockets, her hands in there, short haircut, slouched, talking to everybody. Up and down the stairs they come. The bartenders are … Continue reading

Glass with Rose: Julio Cortázar

Glass with Rose The state that we describe with the word distractions is perhaps only another form of attention, its symmetrical and more profound manifestation located in another region of the psyche: an attention directed from or through or even toward that more profound region. It is not unusual for the subjects of such distraction … Continue reading

Illicit Love Letters: Albert Camus and Maria Casares

The romance of Camus and Casares is richer, if not sadder, when considered alongside the narratives of each of their work. There is an eerie doubling of life and art. Absurdity is the only certainty, and this is confirmed over and over again by coincidence and chance. The two first met on June 6, 1944, the storied … Continue reading

“For Sile” Wei Wu Wei / Saul Leiter

When the beetle sees, it is I that am looking, When the nightingale sings, it is I that am singing, When the lion roars, it is I that am roaring. But when I look for myself, I can see nothing — for no thing is there to be seen. Síle cannot see me either, for when … Continue reading

The Meek One: Fyodor Dostoyevsky / Ian Webb

Only five minutes too late But is it really? is it really probable? Can one really say that it was possible? Why, for what reason did this woman die? oh, believe me, I understand; but why she died is still a question. She was frightened of my love, she asked herself seriously whether she should … Continue reading

From beyond : H. P. Lovecraft / Picasso

“What do we know,” he had said, “of the world and the universe about us? Our means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of surrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are constructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their absolute nature. With five feeble senses we pretend … Continue reading

Blues by Elizabeth Alexander / Jean Mannheim

I am lazy, the laziest girl in the world. I sleep during the day when I want to, ‘til my face is creased and swollen, ‘til my lips are dry and hot. I eat as I please: cookies and milk after lunch, butter and sour cream on my baked potato, foods that slothful people eat, … Continue reading

Still I Rise – Maya Angelou / Marc Chalmé

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like … Continue reading

Wandering: Farmhouse – Hermann Hesse

I am making a sketch of the house in my notebook, and my eye sadly leaves the German roof, the German frame of the house, the gables, everything I love, every familiar thing. Once again I love deeply everything at home, because I have to leave it. Tomorrow I will love other roofs, other cottages. … Continue reading

Non ho smesso di pensarti: Charles Bukowski / Fan Ho

Non ho smesso di pensarti, vorrei tanto dirtelo. Vorrei scriverti che mi piacerebbe tornare, che mi manchi e che ti penso. Ma non ti cerco. Non ti scrivo neppure ciao. Non so come stai. E mi manca saperlo. Hai progetti? Hai sorriso oggi? Cos’hai sognato? Esci? Dove vai? Hai dei sogni? Hai mangiato? Mi piacerebbe … Continue reading

Francis Picabia: Dada Movement

Picabia published one ofhis most revealing dadaist statements: “The painter makes a choice, then imitates his choice so that the deformation constitutes the art; the choice, why not simply sign it, in place of making like a monkey before it? Further along in this article Picabia made still more clear the purpose of his art, … Continue reading

A trifle : Erich Fried / Jürgen Wanger

A trifle for Catherine I don’t know what love is but perhaps it is something like this: When she come home from abroad and tells me proudly: “I sawa water rat”and I remember these words when I wake up in the night and next day at my work 10 and I long to hear her … Continue reading

A Dream Within a Dream: Edgar Allan Poe / Trent Parke

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? … Continue reading

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