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PostPosted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 10:05 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Time's River
The Voyage of Life in Art and Poetry
National Gallery of Art, Washington
Hardcover
Selected by Kate Farrell


Quote:

MORE of Kate Farrell's art/poetry collections.





Quote:
Brown Penny

I whispered, "I am too young.“
And then, "I am old enough“;
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love
.
"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.“
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

William Butler Yeats, Irish, 1865-1939)

(-- p. 33, adjacent to Bartolme Esteban Murillo, Two Women at a Window, c. 1655/1600)


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PostPosted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 12:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Chess Artist
Genius, Obsession and the World's Oldest Game
Hardcover
By J.C. Hallman


Quote:
More of the book.





Quote:
STILL MORE of the book.



Quote:
Altana finished her version of the story, and then we both smiled and looked out into the black steppe. It would be foolish to care for her, I thought. Both she and Bambusha could be plants from Galzanov, like Bair. Still, I thought of chess history and how often, before the modern era, romance cropped up in descriptions of the game: An ancient Arabian texdt described a chess-playing slave girl who was purchased for ten thousand dinars by a chess-playing caliph - the girl beat him three times and he granted her a wish. The French poem Les Eschez amoureux (The Chess Lovers) begins with a chess game between the author and a skilled lady in the Garden of Pleasure, and when the lady wins, her opponent is so pleased that he imagines neither Philometer nor Ulysses could beat her; and even one of the creation myths of the game, the eighteenth-century poem Caïssa (1763, by Sir William Jones), portrayed it as a kind of aphrodisiac - the god of Mars, whose love for a particular nymph was not returned, asked the god of sport to invent for him a game that would win her heart. (From Chapter 16, The Road to Lagan, p. 201)


Quote:
Le livre des eschez amoureux moralisés
Hardcover
Par Évrart de Conty




Quote:
"Be swift, he added, give my passion aid;

A god requests." - He spake, and Sport obey'd.

He fram'd a tablet of celestial mold,

Inlay'd with squares of silver and of gold;

Then of two metals form'd the warlike band,

That here compact in show of battle stand;

He taught the rules that guide the pensive game,

And call'd it Cassa from the dryad's name:

(Whence Albion's sons, who most its praise confess,

Approv'd the play, and nam'd it thoughtful Chess.)

The god delighted thank'd indulgent Sport
;

Then grasp'd the board, and left his airy court.

With radiant feet he pierc'd the clouds; nor stay'd,

Till in the woods he saw the beauteous maid:

(From Caïssa, The Game of Chess; A Poem bySir William Jones)


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 24, 2008 10:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Easter Story
The National Gallery of Art
Hardcover
Edited by some anonymous visionary or two at Bulfinch Press
View the cover art, Perugino's Crucifixion with the Virgin,
Saint John, Saint Jerome and Saint Mary Magdalene




Quote:
Amoretti

Sonnet lxviii


By Edmund Spenser


Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day,
didst make thy triumph over death and sin:
and having harrowed hell, didst bring away,
captivity thence captive us to win.
This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin
,
and grant that we for whom thou diddest dye
being with thy deareblood clean washed from sin,
may live for ever in felicity.
And that thy love we weighing worthily,
may likewise louv thee for the same again:
and for thy sake that all like deare didst buy,
with love may one another entertaine.
So let us love, deare love, like as we ought,
love is the lesson which the Lord us taught
.

And when the day of
Pentacost was fully come,
they were all with one accord
in one place. And suddenly
there came a sound from
heaven as of a rushing mighty
wind, and it filled all the
house where they were sitting.

And there appeared
unto them cloven tongues like
as of fire, and it sat upon
each of them. And they were
all filled with the Holy Ghost
and began to speak with other
tongues, as the Spirit gave
them utterance.

Acts 2:1-4

Adjacent to Domenico Campagnola's The Descent of the Holy Spirit, 1518, Engraving, 7 3/8 x 6 7/8", pgs. 56-57


Magnificent reproductions of some of the world's greatest art treasures lovingly placed alongside western culture's greatest poetic tributes to the triumphant Easter metaphor. Strangely priced at a penny, making poetry and art the best values of contemporary life.

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PostPosted: Wed Jun 04, 2008 2:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

This England
Magazine Subscription
Literary Landscapes of England
The 'beloved Bucks' of Benjamin Disraeli
By Sara Wilson
Autumn, 2007




Quote:
Educated at Miss Roper's school in Islington and then Higham Hall School, Walthamstow, Disraeli left education at the age of 16 or 17 and, for a short time, was articled to a firm of solicitors. In the autumn of 1824 he had begun to speculate in South American mining shares but when the bubble burst barely a year later the young man was left with crippling debts that burdened him until late middle age. ...

Luckily, his first novel, Vivian Grey was published not long afterwards and earned him 200 pounds. It was an extravagant piece of writing, relating the whole story of the Representative and lampooning Murray's involvement in the disaster. It was not an action designed to win Disraeli any friends and the resulting recriminations alienated several influential people in the literary and political worlds, John Murray included. ...

His preference for dandified clothes, including lace shirts, green velvet trousers and showy jewellery, combined with his affected speech and mannerisms to create a raffish and exotic impression. He had also become notorious for conducting a scandalous affair with a married woman, Lady Henrietta Sykes, the original of his novel Henrietta Temple.

All these factors marked Disraeli out for ridicule amongst his peers, hence that catastrophic failure of his maiden speech. To his credit he learned from this experience and toned down his appearance and speaking style for his subsequent orations. In time Disraeli developed a talent for coining striking phrases, such as "I have climbed to the top of the greasy pole," "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics," and "Experience is the child of Thought."

In August 1839 Disraeli married Mary Anne Wyndham, a wealthy widow 12 years his senior. Gossipmongers at the time implied that he had married for money alone, but the couple were clearly devoted to each other and Mary Anne once remarked, "Dizzy married me for my money but if he had the chance again he would marry me for love." (-- pgs. 22-24)


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PostPosted: Thu Jul 17, 2008 8:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Full Moon
Hardcover
By Rum Uncle Plum Wodehouse


Quote:
More of the book.

Yes, and STILL MORE of the ruddy thing.





Quote:
Prudence drew in her breath sharply.

'Well, this settles it. If you can become a business man, anyone can.'

'I wouldn't say that.'

'I would. What a bit of luck, running in to you like this. You've provided me with just the crushing argument I needed. I can now squelch Bill properly.'

'Bill?'

'He won't have a leg to stand on. You see, it's so obvious what happened. There were you, a perfectly ordinary sort of ass --'

'I beg your pardon?'

'-- and you go and get married, and immediately turn into a terrific tycoon. That was what did the trick, your getting married.'

Freddie had no desire to contest this theory.

'Yes,' he agreed, 'I think one may say that. I have never attempted to disguise the fact that I owe everything to the little wo --'

'No man ever amounted to anything till he got married.'

'--man, my best pal and sev --'

'Look at Henry the Eighth.'

'-- erest critic.'

'And Solomon. Once they started marrying, there was no holding them - you just sat back and watched their smoke. And it'll be the same with Bill. He keeps saying he wouldn't be any good at business, trying to come the dreamy artist over me, but that's all nonsense. Wait till you're married, I tell him, and then see how you'll blossom out. And now I'll be able to put you in as * Exhibit A. "What price Freddie (Threepwood), Bill (Lister, known to his pals at the Mulberry Tree as Blister)?" I shall say to him, and he won't know which way to look.' (-- pgs. 28-29)


Quote:
* Note: That would be young Freddie Threepwood, youngest and most troublesome son to the Ninth Earl of Emsworth, married to the only daughter of the head of Donaldson's Dog-Joy of Long Island, New York who has charged the young blot on the old escutcheon with gingering up British sales.


Quote:
Full Moon
Audio Cassette




No experience with this one yet, I'm afraid. There are a number of new Wodehouse audio releases of late but they must be travelling to the colonies by way of tramp steamer still rounding the Horn. Please check back soon for updates.


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PostPosted: Thu Sep 25, 2008 10:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai
Edited and Newly Translated by Chana Bloch
and Stephen Mitchell

Hardcover


Quote:
More of the book.





Quote:
The Body Is the Reason for Love

The body is the reason for love;
after that, the fortress that protects it;
after that, love's prison.
But when the body dies, love is set free
in wild abundance,
like a slot machine that breaks down
and with a furious ringing pours out all at once
all the coins of
all the generations of luck
.

(-- p. 153)


Quote:
Both of Us Together, Each of Us A Part
RARE! Audio Cassette
A reading by the author, Yehuda Amichai


From a live recording at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C., Nov. 20/80. Producer Anne Becker, Recording Engineer Bill Clemens, Post Prod. Engineers Alan Austin and Anne Becker. Forward-thinking librarians may have purchased a copy or two of this rare bilingual recording, which allows listeners to hear some of the poems in both the original Hebrew and English - always a treat!


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PostPosted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 2:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Travels
A bilingual edition
Hardcover
By Yehuda Amichai
Translated from the Hebrew by Ruth Nevo




Quote:
A story and a child, love and again, world and ear,
time in a curled smile, loving and opening:
the house to the night, the earth to the dead and the rain
after the gift of sun. Spring sprouted green words
in us, and the summer gambled on our arriving first,
and love burst out of us, all at once,
all over, like sweat, in the fear,
in the race of our lives, the game.
And children grew and ripened, for the water level
rises all the time with the terrible flood, and all their growth
is because of the rising flood, so as not to drown.
And still, his finger-tips dusted with moon,
like a schoolmaster's with chalk,
God strokes our head, his wrists already
song and angels! And what elbows! And what a face -
of a woman already turned to other matters. A profile
in a window.

(-- p. 25)


Quote:
Both of Us Together, Each of Us A Part
RARE! Audio Cassette
A reading by the author, Yehuda Amichai


From a live recording at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C., Nov. 20/80. Producer Anne Becker, Recording Engineer Bill Clemens, Post Prod. Engineers Alan Austin and Anne Becker. Forward-thinking librarians may have purchased a copy or two of this rare bilingual recording, which allows listeners to hear some of the poems in both the original Hebrew and English - always a treat!


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PostPosted: Wed Dec 17, 2008 12:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The New Yorker
Signing Ceremony
By Clive James
Dec. 1/08




Quote:
Signing Ceremony

Hotel Timeo, Taormina

The lilac peak of Etna dribbles pink,
Visibly seething in the politest way.
The shallow vodka cocktails that we sink
Here on the terrace at the close of day

Are spreading numb delight as they go down.
Their syrup mirrors the way lava flows:
It’s just a show, it might take over town,
Sometimes the Cyclops, from his foxhole, throws

Rocks at Ulysses. But regard the lake
Of moonlight on the water, stretching east
Almost to Italy. The love we make
Tonight might be our last, but this, at least,

Is one romantic setting, am I right?
Cypresses draped in bougainvillea,
The massed petunias, the soft, warm night,
That streak of candy floss. And you, my star,

Still walking the stone alleys with the grace
Of forty years ago. Don’t laugh at me
For saying dumb things. Just look at this place.
Time was more friend to us than enemy,

And soon enough this backdrop will go dark
Again. The spill of neon cream will cool,
The crater waiting years for the next spark
Of inspiration, since the only rule

Governing history is that it goes on:
There is no rhythm of events, they just
Succeed each other. Soon, we will be gone,
And that volcano, if and when it must,

Will flood the slope with lip gloss brought to boil
For other lovers who come here to spend
One last, late, slap-up week in suntan oil,
Their years together winding to an end.

With any luck, they’ll see what we have seen:
Not just the picture postcard, but the splash
Of fire, and know this flowering soil has been
Made rich by an inheritance of ash.

Only because it’s violent to the core
The world grows gardens. Out of earth we came,
To earth we shall return. But first, one more
Of these, delicious echoes of the flame

That drives the long life all should have, yet few
Are granted as we were. It wasn’t fair?
Of course it wasn’t. But which of us knew,
To start with, that the other would be there,

One step away, for all the time it took
To come this far and see a mountain cry
Hot tears, as if our names, signed in the book
Of marriage, were still burning in the sky?

(-- 58)


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PostPosted: Sun Dec 21, 2008 3:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Pigs Have Wings
Hardcover
By P.G. Wodehouse


Quote:
More of the book.

More of the celebrated Empress of Blandings.

More of that scurrilous wag, Parsloe.





Quote:
There was a momentary silence. Then Gloria Salt spoke in an odd, metallic voice.

'No, not my lord Vosper, thank you very much. I wouldn't marry Orlo by golly Vosper to please a dying grandmother. If I found myself standing with that pill at the altar rails and the clergyman said to me "How about it, Gloria, old sport? Wilt thou, Gloria, take this Orlo?", I would reply "Not in a million years, laddie, not to win a substantial wager. If you were suggesting that I might attend his funeral," I would proceed, developing the theme, "that would be another matter, but if, as I think, the idea at the back of your mind is that I shall become his wedded wife, let me inform you, my dear old man of God, that I would rather be dead in a ditch." Orlo Vosper, egad! I should jolly well say not.' (-- pgs. 67)


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 11:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The New Yorker
Magazine Subscription
Fiction
Some Women
By Alice Munro
Dec. 22 & 29/08


Quote:
More Munro.





Quote:
Meanwhile, Roxanne's sister had so many boyfriends that she'd flip a coin to see whom she'd go out with almost every night, and she employed Roxanne to meet the rejects regretfully at the front door of the rooming house where they lived, while she herself and her pick of the night sneaked out the back. Roxanne said that maybe that was how she developed such a gift of gab. And pretty soon some of the boys she had met this way were taking her out, instead of her sister. They did not know her real age.

"I had me a ball," she said. ...

I understood pretty well the winning and losing that had taken place between Sylvia And Roxanne, but it was strange to think of the almost obliterated prize, Mr. Crozier - and to think that he could have had the will to make a decision, even to deprive himself, so late in his life. The carnality at death's door - or the true love, for that matter - was something I wanted to shake off back then, just as I would shake caterpillars off my sleeve. (From a new collection due in late 2009, Too Much Happiness, pgs. 73, 76)


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 10, 2009 2:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

THROB
Number Two
* Collector's Item

Quote:
a magazine os suppurating poetry edited by F.A. Nettelbeck and published whenever there is some money on the table - hopefully quarterly by The Horseheard Nebula Press, mailing address: 15930 Kings Creek Rd., Boulder Creek, Calif. 95006 - 75 cents a copy, $2.50 per year's subscription, (be a patron for $50.00, fucker!) ...

Charles Bukowski Answers 10 Easy Questions
("10 Easy Questions" shall be a regular feature of THROB and will envelop a different poet each issue. We hope to give you the clearer, more defined picture of the poet and his "excuse" and will continue with more bemusing questions in the future...)
Summer-Fall, 1971


Quote:
More of the interview.

More of the Buk wisdom.



Quote:
8.) Does your cock still get as hard as you would like it to?

Nobody's cock gets as hard as they would like it to. But, being 51 this August 16th, I can't complain. I still go 2 pieces a day sometimes, maybe 4 pieces in 3 days, then a couple of days off. Of course, there are dry periods when I don't have a girl friend or don't look for one. I don't search women out. If they don't come to my door then it doesn't happen. A writer, of course, should have experience with women. There's much pain involved with me as I am sentimental and get quiite attached. I am not much of a lady's man and unless I get some help from the lady, not much happens. I'm not married now, have one child, 6. I've been lucky to have 4 long term relationships with 4 unusual women. They all treated me better than I deserved and they were very good on the love bed. Should I stop loving, fucking right now I believe I have been far more fortunate than most men. The gods have been good, the love has been fine, and the pain, the pain has arrived in boxcar loads. (-- p. 58)


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PostPosted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 11:08 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

At Blackwater Pond
Clothbound Audio CD
Poems by Mary Oliver featuring selections from in order House of Light, Dream Work, Why I Wake Early, House of Light, New and Selected Poems Vols. I and II, White Pine and Owls and Other Fantasies
Read in a slow, clear, sonorous and purposeful voice by the poet
A classic!


Quote:
Samples of featured selections at Poet Seers

More of Oliver at the Roll & Shuffle.




Quote:
... As the world changes from the long winter into spring, and everything takes on a freshness and a spiritual meaning, just so poetry can quicken, enliven the interior world of the listener.

Much of the work of a poet is a mystery, but the last labor is clear; it is the deliverance of the poem. Often this happens through a manuscript or a book, but it can occur in a vocal way also. Has everyone at some time looked up the original meaning of performance? It means, says Webster, "to finish, to complete." The poem is meant to be given away, best of all by the spoken presentation of it; then the work is complete. Which makes performance sound, does it not, like part of the life-work of the poem, which I think it is. As if the poem itself had an independent life, or the endless possibility of its own life, in minds other than the poet's, which I think it has.

When I step onto a stage to read poems, the anticipation and even the hope of the audience is palpable. The people sitting quietly in the chairs - they have come not to rest, but to be awakened. They have come for some worthwhile news.

But, as I say, there are other ways to fall into the enchantment besides the live reading. I once read a story about an old couple in New York City; the wife kept house, and the husband went every day to the public library and read, and copied into a notebook, the poems of Keats. He had fallen under the spell of the English poet - these were the poems he loved, and would have written if he could have written poems at all. His wife in the evening read his notebook, and found the poems astonishing and, also, thinking her busband had written them himself in the solitude of the library, she could not believe she had such good fortune, to be married to such a man. (From Performance Notes included along with color photos of the poet in the woods probably near her home)


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PostPosted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Winter Hours
Hardcover
By Mary Oliver


Quote:
More Oliver.





Quote:
The Swan

Across the wide waters
something comes
floating - a slim
and delicate

ship, filled
with white flowers -
and it moves
on its miraculous muscles

as though time didn't exist,
as though bringing such gifts
to the dry shore
was a happiness

almost beyond bearing.
And now it turns its dark eyes,
it rearranges
the clouds of its wings,

it trails
an elaborate webbed foot,
the color of charcoal.
Soon it will be here.

Oh, what shall I do
when that poppy-colored beak
rests in my hand?
Said Mrs. Blake of the poet:

I miss my husband's company -
he is so often
in paradise
.
Of course! the path to heaven

doesn't lie down in flat miles.
It's in the imagination
with which you perceive
this world,

and the gestures
with which you honor it.
Oh, what will I do, what will I say, when those
white wings
touch the shore?


(-- pgs. 27-28)


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PostPosted: Wed May 27, 2009 10:13 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not Much Fun
The Lost Poems of Dorothy Parker
Compiled and with an Introduction by
Stuart Y. Silverstein


Quote:
More about dear Mrs. Parker.





Quote:
THE BRIDGE FIEND

How do we cut for the deal?
That's so, we did it before.
Partner, we'll beat them, I feel -
Oh, I just hate keeping score!
Really, I don't understand,
Under the line or above?
Partner, just look at my hand!
* I must be lucky at love
.

Partner, I haven't a thing -
The hearts were dealt in a lump.
Don't tell that was your king -
Well, then I've wasted a trump.
Now it's my bid, I suppose -
Goodness, who dealt me this mess?
You made it lilies on those?
Isn't it time to progress!

Oh, did you see what you did?
Why, you're an absolute dub!
Didn't you hear what I bid?
Couldn't you lead me a club?
Kindly keep track of what's played -
What a remarkable lead!
Tell me how many we made -
Set us three hundred? Indeed!

(-- p. 69)


Quote:
* Danish proverb: Lucky in love, unlucky at cards.


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PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

From the PokerPulse Gambler's Guide to the Opera:

Harper's
Magazine Subscription
Story
Little Drops of Water
By Kurt Vonnegut
June, 2009


Quote:
More dear, departed Captain Kurt - farewell, hello.





Quote:
... There was Edith Vranken, the Schenectady brewer's daughter who wanted to sing; Janice Gurnee, the Indianapolis hardware merchant's daughter who wanted to sing; Beatrix Werner, the Milwaukee consulting engineer's daughter who wanted to sing; and Ellen Sparks, the Buffalo wholesale grocer's daughter who wanted to sing.

I met these attractive young ladies - one by one and in the sequence named - in Larry's (baritone Larry Whiteside's) studio, or what anyone else would call apartment. Larry adds to his revenues as a soloist by giving voice lessons to rich and pretty young women who want to sing. While Larry is soft as a hot fudge sundae, he is big and powerful looking, like a college-bred lumberjack, if there is such a thing, or a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman. His voice, of course, gives the impression that he could powder rocks between his thumb and foreginger. His pupils inevitably fell in love with him. If you ask how they loved him, I can onlyreply with another question: Where in the cycle do you mean? If you mean at the beginning, Larry was loved as a father pro tem. Later he was loved as a benevolent task master, and finally as a lover.

After that came what Larry and his friends came to call graduation, which, in fact, had nothing to do with the pupil's status as a singer, and had everything to do with the cycle of affections. The cue for graduation was the pupil's overt use of the word marriage.

Larry was something of a Bluebeard, and, may I say, a lucky dog while his luck held.


Previously unpublished fiction, coming October, 2009:

Watch the Birdie
Hardcover
By Kurt Vonnegut




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