The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this too, was a gift.
I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
- Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell
Michael Dumontier/Neil Farber - 11/23/13
I am convinced by the metaphysics of caves. You will make a demand on me that I cannot answer, and we will trade rough sketches of deer and the divine and our tools will be sticks and we will give our pictographs dimension with the rough brush of our tongues. If we part, it is because I have neither been brave, nor clear the way communication in caves might demand. I want to give everything to you (balloons, umbrellas, words, words), but I am confused by the physiology of arms; to use them as levers. To do with them the work of gifting, the arms themselves must become part of the economy they service. Take these coins from out my eyes: love, love, invisible love.
All girls should have a poem
written for them even if
we have to turn this God-damn world
upside down to do it.
Richard Brautigan, in Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt
You are too hot for me
I am too special for you
You are a fast explosion and
I’m the embers
The Brooklyn Museum is posting scans from Keith Haring’s diaries here:
c.1971 (age 12)
Lee Friedlander, Nashville, 1963