petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: Everyone is moving to Berlin
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010/08/everyone-is-moving-to-berlin.html
Thursday, August 5, 2010. Everyone is moving to Berlin. It’s all going down in East Berlin. She swept her long hair over her shoulder and swayed the table decisively. He looked at her and took a little sip of his cool beer. He'll never be able to fit me in, she thought, between that faded old sofa and the cranky fridge with half-drunk bottles of Weisswein and the hung-up washing and steaming cups of dark tea on the sideboard of the shop. He was so polite, it was exhausting. 8220;Got a light?
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: December 2009
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Wednesday, December 23, 2009. In Britain and indeed Europe, we are consumers. We do what the capitalist system expects and needs us to do - we buy things. Nowhere is this clearer than in the snaking queues at department stores this Christmas. Which suggests that there is little 'else' beyond the realm of this advert and his reassuring smile, consumers forget to ask questions about Nescafe's business dealings with third world coffee growers. We are distracted from the political reality. Of course, artists...
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: Berlin bombed with poetry
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010/09/berlin-bombed-with-poetryq.html
Thursday, September 2, 2010. Berlin bombed with poetry. We have bombing, and love-bombing, but poetry-bombing? Now there's a new concept. Berlin's been the victim of an alphabetic assault this month, with millions of poems by German and Chilean artists raining down on the city. It's a CND wet dream. What better place to be poetically pulverized than Berlin, that cultural capital with its poetic edginess and (in)tense history? Http:/ lyrikline.wordpress.com/. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: September 2010
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html
Thursday, September 2, 2010. Berlin bombed with poetry. We have bombing, and love-bombing, but poetry-bombing? Now there's a new concept. Berlin's been the victim of an alphabetic assault this month, with millions of poems by German and Chilean artists raining down on the city. It's a CND wet dream. What better place to be poetically pulverized than Berlin, that cultural capital with its poetic edginess and (in)tense history? Http:/ lyrikline.wordpress.com/. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Art, for example.
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: FLASCHENPOST
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2011/01/flaschenpost.html
Thursday, January 20, 2011. 8220;the essays gathered here collectively examine the ways in which a poem can travel across continents and years between poets and readers of different ages and (…) how these readers (sometimes themselves also poets) can understand and speak back.”. Karen Leeder, Flaschenpost, a special edition of German Life and Letters, 2007. If you could climb a ladder with no end. Would you find yourself here? In the upper stacks. Of the Periodicals Room? Turning, a woman. Diary of an En...
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: January 2011
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
Thursday, January 20, 2011. 8220;the essays gathered here collectively examine the ways in which a poem can travel across continents and years between poets and readers of different ages and (…) how these readers (sometimes themselves also poets) can understand and speak back.”. Karen Leeder, Flaschenpost, a special edition of German Life and Letters, 2007. If you could climb a ladder with no end. Would you find yourself here? In the upper stacks. Of the Periodicals Room? Turning, a woman. Diary of an En...
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: April 2010
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html
Friday, April 2, 2010. The future of language. Language is an animal. It prowls, it lurks around the corners of the mouth, around streetcorners, it stalks softly through reams of sounds, before pouncing - swiftfooted - on pages of prey. Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.'. Derek Walcott, the Fist. Language is a funny fabric. Words are shapeshifters, changing to fit the speaker's intentions. Yet a word can also be incredibly specific, pinning down a precise concept that's difficult...Trang...
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: Blackberry Sonnet
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010/08/blackberry-sonnet.html
Thursday, August 5, 2010. I love this man, now and for forever. His pupils were split berries, black on. White irises. Her hair was spilt libation on his forehead. She tipped. Her liquid lips to his, and drank to the world he'd turned his back on. She turned and said a silent thanks to the world that had stripped her. Of him, that had held his neck crooked across the cliff. What the sea tasted like. From that great height. What bones sound like. When the whole world sucks them stiff. To the silent sea.
petitsportraits.blogspot.com
snapshots: Dental Trauma
http://petitsportraits.blogspot.com/2010/08/dental-trauma.html
Thursday, August 5, 2010. My tongue for too long. I know that conscience. And the cold bite hard,. And rhyme is a twisting. Tongue, is a sound leaf. Two lines of teeth,. But this was torture. Was a lovebite at the night's. A brush of teeth along her black. Back, a perfect kiss. In the cold air. So when. Your lips brushed mine. I could not help but wonder. Of teenage lust and tooth. And tongue, salivasap,. Itself between my metal brace. And gum, biting. Bleeding, suffering, then numb. To escape, save face,.
