Monday, February 27, 2023

Victorian Trading

aka Victorian Papers
Today I opened the LAST moving box and was so glad to discover that I had remembered to pack this now - vintage (2010) publication. In the beginning, I saved every beautiful catalogue, but somewhere along the way they fell into the recycling bin. Season after season, I received so many, it never occurred to me that a day would come when they no longer appeared in my mailbox. Alas, what will we do, now that this unique mail-order company has ceased trading? So many lovely cards and gifts over the years . . .

Friday, February 24, 2023

Eye in the Sky

Sunset on Mars (aka Las Vegas)
"I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you . . ."


Miscellaneous connections for the day:

1.


. . . when the character Rameel met his wife Isadora:

" 'It was like looking at the sun and not going blind,'
Ramell said of his first sight of Isadora.
'That beautiful? huh,' Benton asked.
'Been-tone, my family's faces shine like the light of God.' "

from Where Things Come Back (p 40)
by John Corey Whaley

2.

"When you kiss your little baby,
you kiss the face of God . . .
"

3.

"You shall see the face of God and live . . . "

P.S.
Instatoon

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

Tarot Favs

My Halloween Tarot Cards
are perfect for Mardi Gras!
Tarot Readings Daily

They’re reading Tarot cards right now,
in the little pink house with the sign in the yard.
Shadows spider across still-green lawn
whose fate, so far, defies the frosts.

Someone asks the right question,
draws the right card.
Many cups in the immediate future;
radiance pouring down.

They know the future,
the creatures in the yard:
night, thirst, frost.
Only the sapiens in the house believe

fire, water, air, and earth
would bother to reveal
when to fear and love.
The one who’s paying

draws another card.
Outside, in the yard,
a squirrel noses seed that fell
like radiance, from above.


Joy Ladin (b 1961)

Tarot Readings ~ San Francisco
And for Lent, you can simply
re-new your New Year's Resolutions!

Saturday, February 18, 2023

Sparks

This clever photo of Russell and Ron Mael
~ aka "The Sparks Brothers" ~
reminded me of my favorite Valentine
from Gerry this year . . .

A couple of favorites:

Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth

When she's on her best behaviour
Don't be tempted by her favours
Never turn your back on Mother Earth

Towns are hurled from A to B
By arms that looked so smooth to me
Never turn your back on Mother Earth

Grasp at straws that don't want grasping
Gaze at clouds that come down crashing
Never turn your back on Mother Earth

Three days and two nights away from my friends
Amen to anything that brings a quick return to my friends
To my friends

Never turn your back on Mother Earth

Well, I'll admit I was unfaithful
But from now I'll be more faithful
Never turn your back on Mother
Never turn your back on Mother
Never turn your back on Mother Earth



The Number One Song in Heaven

This is the number one song in heaven
Written, of course, by the mightiest hand
All of the angels are sheep in the fold of their master
They always follow the Master and his plan

This is the number one song in heaven
Why are you hearing it now, you ask
Maybe you're closer to here than you imagine
Maybe you're closer to here than you care to be

This is the number one song in heaven
Written, of course, by the mightiest hand
All of the angels are sheep in the fold of their master
They always follow the Master and his plan

This is the number one song in heaven
Why are you hearing it now, you ask
Maybe you're closer to here than you imagine
Maybe you're closer to here than you care to be


*****************
Learn more about Sparks:
2021 Documentary

Tuesday, February 14, 2023

Maybe Only A Hunch

Wedding Poem for Schele and Phil

A marriage is risky business these days
Says some old and prudent voice inside.
We don’t need twenty children anymore
To keep the family line alive,
Or gather up the hay before the rain.
No law demands respectability.
Love can arrive without certificate or cash.
History and experience both make clear
That men and women do not hear
The music of the world in the same key,
Rather rolling dissonances doomed to clash.

So what is left to justify a marriage?
Maybe only the hunch that half the world
Will ever be present in any room
With just a single pair of eyes to see it.
Whatever is invisible to one
Is to the other an enormous golden lion
Calm and sleeping in the easy chair.
After many years, if things go right
Both lion and emptiness are always there;
The one never true without the other.

But the dark secret of the ones long married,
A pleasure never mentioned to the young,
Is the sweet heat made from two bodies in a bed
Curled together on a winter night,
The smell of the other always in the quilt,
The hand set quietly on the other’s flank
That carries news from another world
Light-years away from the one inside
That you always thought you inhabited alone.
The heat in that hand could melt a stone.


by Bill Holm (1943 - 2009)

Peter & Katy: thanks for posting & reposting!

Thursday, February 9, 2023

Could Be Beautiful

One of the saddest gravestones:
"He died for the lost cause."
Good Bones

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.


Maggie Smith (b 1977)
in Good Bones, 2017

See also Dark Days
and Mayday Mayday
Good bones, right?
The Jordan Gilmer House
built in 1806 for Jordan Gilmer
by an apprentice to Thomas Jefferson

Monday, February 6, 2023

Ball & Claw Foot

Ball & Claw Design
Detail of corkscrew table leg, glass ball foot --
and gargoyle!

Gerry and I were lucky to find this table
back in 1995, when we were out antiquing
at a shop in Drexel Hill, PA . . .
and this sheet music cabinet, maybe not
a perfect match, but related spiral & claw motif.
Detai of music cabinet:
Brown Furniture

Don’t throw out that old chair!
Someone said yes there,
listened to Brahms while it rained,
fell asleep over “Das Kapital,”
told a small child about King Alfred and the cakes.

Don’t be fooled by the dining table,
discreetly silent under its green cloth.
Momentous events occurred there,
all of which it remembers perfectly.
A terrible silence was broken over cake,
and three aunts sang a song about Romania.
Not your aunts? Not important. They were there.

Your living room’s still making history.
All night the sofa
gossips with the Turkish carpet,
which boasts to the glass-fronted bookcase
about the fantastic voyages of its youth.

These things remember so that we can forget.
Who will love the old
if not the old?


By Katha Pollitt (b 1949)
in The New Yorker ~ January 31, 2022

See also Small Comfort
and Lot's Wife: What Did You Expect?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Brown Furniture ~ dear to my heart!

Friday, February 3, 2023

Beautifully Brewed

Victorian Advertising Art
So lovely, yet, sadly, unattributed.
Who is the artist? Who is the model?
Both, lost to time . . .
Goodbye January!

Hello February!

Looking forward to all of these titles
by Sophie Blackall

These two poems are perfect for a chilly day,
when what you need most is a hot cup of tea!

Winter Love
I would like to decorate this silence,
but my house grows only cleaner
and more plain. The glass chimes I hung
over the register ring a little
when the heat goes on.
I waited too long to drink my tea.
It was not hot. It was only warm.


by Linda Gregg (1942 - 2019)
American poet and teacher

&

Now
Now is like a cup of hot tea.
Drink it down and all of a sudden
you feel warm inside.

Many people I know
seem to be waiting
for their cups of hot tea
to get hotter or sweeter.

Inadvertently they don't get
anything but cold.

Hold your life close in your hands
and be close to these
beautifully brewed days.


by Naomi Shihab Nye (b 1952)
Contemporary Palestinian / American Poet
A few more long - time favorites