Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling

Or when grapes are green in the cluster,

Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.
Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?

You should have died at the apples' dropping,

When the grasshopper comes to trouble,

And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,

And all winds go sighing

For sweet things dying.

- Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894) , "A dirge"

Monday, January 28, 2008

The dead make things never be the same.

- text fragment: flowerville (
'to those our dead whom we mourn secretly and to those who mourn them secretly'

- images:

Saturday, January 26, 2008

closing sequence from
georg wilhelm pabst's the three penny opera, 1931

Guest entry by THE ART OF MEMORY

Thursday, January 24, 2008

We do not think enough of the Dead as exhilirants - they are not dissuaders but Lures-Keepers of the great Romance still to us foreclosed - while coveting (we envy) their wisdom we lament their silence.
Grace is still a secret.

Emily Dickinson (Prose fragment 50)

Saturday, January 19, 2008

At the last

She cometh no more:
Time too is dead.
The last tide is led
To the last shore.

What is Eternity,
But the sea coming,
The sea going

Thursday, January 17, 2008

a deep grave surely

"The stillness was that of a deep grave, save for the raindrops, falling light as thistledown, with a faint, monotonous sound like a whisper that dies and begins again and dies there behind the wet, glistening trunks."

~J. P. Jacobsen, Marie Grubbe, 1876

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

shadows and smells

the army is imaginary...

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Lazarus - he already stinks.

-Kierkegaard - Journals and Papers v.3

Monday, January 7, 2008

Darwin, who was born into a large family that for two generations had been scientists, engineers, industrialists, and well-to-do landowners, and yet who, despite his genius, was a sufferer of neuroses, constant illnesses (he vomited every afternoon at four), a kind of hysteria that took the form of gasping and palpitation, and seizures of depression in which he wept uncontrollably.
- Guy Davenport

(the image is by Etienne Leopold Trouvelot of an "ideal section of the atmosphere of the sun."
From the fine

Sunday, January 6, 2008





"Nourished on the blood of a schizophrenic, a spider weaves crazy webs."

-Guido Ceronetti, The Silence of the Body

During the 1950s, a swiss pharmacologist named Peter Witt conducted a set of experiments in spider doping. He found that the spiders spun uniquely cockeyed webs depending on which substance they had ingested.

-images and Peter Witt information from the great

Saturday, January 5, 2008

A Moon Piece, describing that notable Battel between Axalla,
General of Tamerlane, and Camares the Persian, fought by the
light of the Moon.

- Sir Thomas Browne, Musaeum Clausum II

(Thank you James Walsh)