Buoyantville... where words float.To the Gods of Summer - Debora Greger- May 31, 2008 Dandelion, isn't it time Dark was the British winter, and dank, and what passed for spring just more of the same. When will you show your face around here again Mayfly, who live for just a day, when will you take the time to drag your larger, longer shadow down from the sundial May we be granted the sight, if not of sun, then of a yellow so luminous we gray souls look and then look away: let acres of oilseed rape bloom, acidic as your grace. Swift and swallow working your way toward heaven...http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1801422/ Night Music - Illu- May 30, 2008 As a long lost friend was on my mind this evening, and we both loved the Great Ilaiyaraaja's (Illu for us) music passionately, I was searching for the Telugu version of this song but couldn't find it - so the Tamil version should do.http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1800812/ Herr. Kafka Meet Herr. BLU- May 29, 2008 ht Lost At E -Minorhttp://buoy.antville.org/stories/1800696/ Above The Gravel Pit- May 27, 2008 "It's like a villanelle, this inclination of going back to events in our past, the way the villanelle's form refuses to move forward in linear development, circling instead at those familiar moments of emotion. Only the rereading counts, Nabokov said." Michael Ondaatje in "Divisadero" Remember that whorled sky, Adrienne Its blue, I said, matched your eyes. We were indoors. Outside, summer was making an appearance at the tail end of a long Northern winter. You had written me a villanelle -...http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1799896/ Header Change- May 19, 2008 In keeping with the change in seasons, a header change: detail from a photograph I took of a sunset over Vernazza, Italy. This is the actual photograph; makes a pretty screensaver, if I may say so myself.http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1797286/ Further North- May 19, 2008 He takes trains and planes, always with a book of poems in his pockets, for there is a great need for talismans in this time of post-time. Like the rain that had falls equally on the thorns and the roses of the century, history corrodes secreted personal memory. It is for this reason, perhaps, Paul and Primo had left this world via the Seine, via the stair, leaving a flowering axe, and a periodic table.http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1797271/ Sunday Music- May 19, 2008 For a complete audio-visual feast go watch Hemia - The Complete Film - Sigur Rós's concert movie; 100 minutes of your life will be redeemed.http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1797263/ On Watching The Staten Island Ferries- May 17, 2008 Like prophets who come foretelling the doom of Sodom, and whose words fall on to the deaf ears of carousing mobs, these ferries, painted the color of sunsets, cross and recross the foam flecked bay in the rain - a warning appropriate to our brief time on earth that sunlight like grace is limited, and that paradise, like the ripe mouth of a woman when loved, passes much too quickly, leaving us with few poetic images (as if to increase our torments): green Ulyssean isles in spring air, the...http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1796635/ Afternoon Music- May 13, 2008 This nice article on Bach's farewell to eternity "The Art of Fuge" made me revisit Gould's recording of it: Here Gould essays Contrapunctus 14 - the last (& incomplete) fuguehttp://buoy.antville.org/stories/1795076/ On Home Ground- May 11, 2008 after a 9 hour flight from Rome, after being away for about 3 weeks, with Dante smoothing my way through the dreaded gates of INS at the airport. While I will miss (and recall) the Mediterranean azures (apart from days in Rome and Florence, the communion with the sea was continuous), it feels good to be back to a cloudy Jersey spring day. And before I forget, my favorite art moment from this Italian sojourn (remembering Italy bleeds art): the discovery and the conquest of breathing by...http://buoy.antville.org/stories/1794228/ |