fleaspeech:

NY illustrator and designer David Sankey uses vintage photos he finds at flea markets (often Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market) as the cover art for his mixtapes! —We love the creativity here and the song picks are just right for the fall! It’s great to see what our shoppers do with their finds ; ) Read more and listen here!

fleaspeech:

NY illustrator and designer David Sankey uses vintage photos he finds at flea markets (often Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market) as the cover art for his mixtapes! —We love the creativity here and the song picks are just right for the fall! It’s great to see what our shoppers do with their finds ; ) Read more and listen here!

My sister Rebekah (first reader here) reading at the 2013 Sarah Lawrence College Poetry Festival (source: pofest.tumblr.com)

Several of my better finds from the Pompton Plains community garage sale last weekend.

Mister Dress-Up is selling this shirt featuring my illustration work for just a couple more days. If you think it’s worth it, grab yourself one maybe.
Buy it here.

Mister Dress-Up is selling this shirt featuring my illustration work for just a couple more days. If you think it’s worth it, grab yourself one maybe.

Buy it here.

"The landscape of Tranströmer’s poetry has remained constant during his fifty-five year career: the jagged coastline of his native Sweden, with its dark spruce and pine forests, sudden light and sudden storm, restless seas and endless winters, is mirrored by his direct, plain-speaking style and arresting, unforgettable images. Sometimes referred to as a "buzzard poet," Tranströmer seems to hang over this landscape with a gimlet eye that sees the world with an almost mystical precision.

Tranströmer himself has remarked: ‘I perceived, during the first enthusiastic poetry years, all poetry as Swedish. Eliot, Trakl, Éluard—they were all Swedish writers, as they appeared in priceless, imperfect translations … We must believe in poetry translation, if we want to believe in World Literature.’”

-Robin Robertson, Introduction, The Deleted World

_____

Autumnal Archipelago

storm

Suddenly the walker comes upon the ancient oak: a huge
rooted elk whose hardwood antlers, wide
as this horizon, guard the stone-green walls of the sea.

A storm from the north. It is the time of rowanberries.
Awake in the night he hears - far above the horned tree -
the stars, stamping in their stalls.

from The Deleted World, translated by Robin Robertson

_____

Autumnal Archipelago

Storm

Here the walker suddenly meets the giant
oak tree like a petrified elk whose crown is
furlongs wide before the September ocean’s
                    murky green fortress.

Northern storm. The season when rowanberry
clusters swell. Awake in the darkness, listen:
constellations stamping inside their stalls, high
                    over the treetops.

from The Great Enigma, translated by Robin Fulton

VA w/ Alaina.

more

Pssst!

Pssst!

…Interred with other daughters, in dirt in other potters’ fields 
above them, parades mark the passing of days 
through parks where pale colonnades arch in marble and steel.
Where all of the twenty-thousand attending your foot fall 
and the causes they died for are lost in the idling bird calls, 
and the records they left are cryptic at best, lost in obsolescence. 
The text will not yield, nor x-ray reveal with any fluorescence 
where the hand of the master begins and ends. 

I fell, I tried to do well but I won’t be. 
Go tell the one that I love to remember and hold me. 
I call, I call for the doctor 
but the snow swallows me whole with ol’ Flory Walker
and the event lives only in print. 

He said: "It’s alright," and “It’s all over now,” 
and boarded the plane, his belt unfastened; 
the boy was known to show unusual daring. 
And, called a “boy”, this alderman, confounding Tammany Hall, 
In whose employ King Tamanend himself preceeded John’s fall. 

John Purroy Mitchel was the mayor of New York from 1914 to 1917. At age 34 he was the second-youngest ever; he is sometimes referred to as “The Boy Mayor of New York.”


So we all raise a standard to which the wise and honest soul may repair, 
to which a hunter, a hundred years from now, may look and despair 
and see with wonder the tributes we have left to rust in the parks, 
swearing that our hair stood on end to see John Purroy Mitchel depart 
for the Western front where work might count. 
O mercy! O God! God, 
I will the hunter to decipher the stone, 
and what lies under the city is done

So look and despair. 
Look and despair.

"At one point, we were going to write…the story of Ray Allen, the first black president, given the narrative and symbolic structure of the Gospels. Other players were in his cabinet and supposed to parallel apostles. Ron Artest was Judas."

Bethlehem Shoals, on what led up to The Almanac.