«A fine day for seeing»

Jackson Pollock,Number One, 1948


Digression On Number 1,1948

I am ill today but I am not
too ill. I am not ill at all.
It is a perfect day, warm
for winter, cold for fall.

A fine day for seeing. I see
ceramics, during lunch hour, by
Mir6, and I see the sea by Leger;
light, complicated Metzingers
and a rude awakening by Brauner,
a little table by Picasso, pink.

I am tired today but I am not
too tired. I am not tired at all.
There is the Pollock, white, harm
will not fall, his perfect hand

and the many short voyages. They'll
never fence the silver range.
Stars are out and there is sea
enough beneath the glistening earth
to bear me toward the future
which is not so dark. I see.

Frank O'Hara


*Hoje no Facebook alguém me mostrou um excerto de um episódio de Mad Men, em que Don Draper lê um poema de Frank O'Hara. Deste poeta lembrava-me deste Digression...., a partir do quadro que acima se vê. Uma coisa levou à outra. Oh Facebook, maldito sejas, quem quer «amigos» que não são reais blablablabla....Bullshit.

Come Undone

So rock 'n' roll, so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well-trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all
I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to
If I stop lying, I'll just disappoint you

Há um grande letrista menosprezado no mundo pop: Robbie Williams. Em breve explicarei tudo, num blogue perto de si.E não vai ser aqui.

Recomeço


Thomas Gainsborough, View of Dedham

Mother, Summer, I

My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,

And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

Philip Larkin

Shaken and Stirred: a tribute to Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker, crítica,poeta, escritora, wit extraordinaire. Nascida a 22 de Agosto de 1893.

Colette, por Irving Penn