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Posts tagged poet
“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large — I contain multitudes.”
― Walt Whitman
Happy Birthday Walt Whitman!
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—John Ashbery, Poetry, December 1955
On Saturday we host our first-ever symposium on poets and artists, “Sitting Between the Sea and the Buildings.” Attend all day long our drop by for just part of the schedule.
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It exists in the most sacred and most profane corners of our lives, from the illuminated spiritual texts that have created our planet’s moral codes to corny couplets tucked neatly into Hallmark cards. Poetry is read aloud at weddings and funerals, at christenings and wakes, under the covers and over bottles of wine. All of us, whether we know it or not, speak in poetry. We use metaphors and similes and images to explain our lives to others. Poetry is the humanizing and empathetic body of our language. In some countries whole soccer stadiums fill with citizens to hear a single poet and in some a small gathering of twenty people will sit in a café to hear a human voice sing. For all our differences, poetry is a constant art form that connects our different languages. It’s a seer and a healer, an instigator and a diplomat.”
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words are when nothing will do.”
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Our ménage à trois by candelight—;
the various absurdities: black lace,
pink mules, a little bo-peep teddy.Afterward, bad Champagne
in the kitchen of the pied-à-terre.
The mind is an unforgettable red space.But I, I can’t escape this place;—
the steep of ridged limbs,
the mountainous dark pining;and love, the flickering hood of flame.
—Meghan O’Rourke, “Theory vs. Practice”
Art Credit Katharine Harvey
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