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Friday, December 25, 2009

sweetest downfall



For Jane


 225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

~Bukowski

Favorite Photographer of the moment: Juergen Teller












He has a blatant style and consistency within his photographic work. Most famous for his fashion photography accomplishments and most recognized for his quirky and provactive statement Marc Jacobs ads.
Much of his work has a vintage feel with the minimal retouching and the natural, warm tinted lighting. The demeanor is slightly uncomfortable. As if Teller himself is somehow invading the privacy of the subject matter, often times in a sexual way.

I love his nude shots. Though they are certainly not definably "tasteful," they are thought provoking and interesting. They positioning the of subject, point of view, and the scene (often in doors in a retro looking setting) all create this unique and identifiable feel in his work.


Random / Untitled







(oldie but, goodie: Jacob Holdt)


Ellen Rogers

Kind of been inspired lately by whimsical, dreamy, hopeful art and photography.
This reflect my attempt to lose some of my cynicism.
It could always be worse.
though, that sounds kind of cynical in itself.
I jusr kind of keep trying to remind myself that there is beauty in the world. 
Unfortunately, the horror and evil is what is most represented and pounded into our minds. 
Because of this new way of thinking, i feel like i have been much more calm.
or at least a little less of a maniac than usual!!!


For Jane: With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough:



 I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of two gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know
her dress upon my arm
but
they will not
give her back to me.

Charles Bukowski


I am always pleasantly surprised when I read a poem of Bukowski's that speaks of loss or love or him in pain. While I love the sometimes, vulgarity and obscenity of his poetry, its nice to read items like this one as well as "For Jane," posted above. Its like a breath of fresh air in a sea of foul language and shocking themes. But that's why I decidedly like Bukowski, though I have doubted and pondered the validity of his populairty, fame, and appraisal of his work. 
I do love the simplicity and direct style of writing that he uses.