been a long ass time since i blogged anything. but this here Ryan McGinley picture deserves some sharing

been a long ass time since i blogged anything. but this here Ryan McGinley picture deserves some sharing
1960s model Veruschka
Daniele Tamagni, cover image for ‘Gentlemen of Bacongo’, his book on the Sapeurs of Brazzaville, Congo. (via)
planted a roof top garden today. between that and the CSA hopefully i won’t be buying too many veggies this summer.
it was windy on the roof, an amazing day
yay! if you get a chance.. go
a big dancer from last nights party..
Every night a man walks by my house and calls my name. If this were
a movie, his voice would sound like Spanish guitar and blue eyes and in
an hour and a half we would have a big wedding. But it’s only real life,
a street, a neighbor I don’t know, who named his dog Amy, and he says it
like a swear word
like an evangelist
like a drunk husband
like an out-of-work father
making a fist
and for a sleepy second I’m confused because I don’t know any men like
that and how strange to hear Amy! Bad Girl! outside my head, this far
from the typewriter. I wonder if there are other Amys on the street.
I hope one of them is not just learning to play herself like a toy piano,
or scared of her wallpaper in the dark and the tree outside her window
with hooks for hands, or in bed with a meteor shower she thinks is
the moon. Some night I will find her before you do, tie her in my yard
to a kite, and change her name to a lullaby. Then I’ll walk by your house
every night, and sing it.
- Amy Grimm
Quite in the middle of nowhere
I have sought to discover
The extent of my ignorance
And am doing admirably.
A light-starved hawthorn
Caught among pines puts out
A few plain flowers,
And I do not grab
As once I might have have at
The analogy but let
The pointless sweetness
Of the fact flood me.
The beauty of abandonment
Is no mean thing:
Goldenrod growing through
The frame of a rusted Chevy,
Listing barns, fields
(And fields are people’s lives)
Routed by poplar
Effacing whole generations.
It’s forlorn, the children
Grown up only to move away -
But who cares for
Packaged consolations?
Meaning stubbornly luxuriates,
The sturdy American
Weaknesses beckon:
Seeing is believing,
Remarking is thinking.
I too am a landscape.
Knowledge is a gesture
Which all things make.
- Baron Wormser