Friday, December 5, 2025

Thursday, December 4, 2025

THE WAYS OF PARADISE ~

 



R E A D   M E


       Fitzcarraldo Editions

       2024



Wednesday, December 3, 2025

STEVE CROPPER ~

 


S T E V E   C R O P P E R


Steve Cropper, Guitarist, Songwriter and a Shaper of Memphis Soul Music, Dies at 84

As a member of Booker T. & the MG’s and as a producer, he played a pivotal role in the rise of Stax Records, a storied force in R&B in the 1960s and ’70s.

Steve Cropper in 1973. His guitar licks could be heard in hits by Otis Redding, Sam & Dave and Wilson Pickett, among many others.

Credit...                                                                David Reed Archive/Alamy

PETE SEEGER TONIGHT ~

 


Words and Music by Pete Seeger (1964)




DRUMMOND HADLEY ~

 



Drum Hadley on Drumm Street, San Francisco
photo by Emma Piper-Burket 2009


R E A D   M E



Tuesday, December 2, 2025

"JAILBREAKERS" ( Y OU B E T ! )

 


AI’s safety features can be circumvented with poetry, research finds






Monday, December 1, 2025

MEREDITH MONK TONIGHT ~

 



Artist: Meredith Monk Album: Songs Of Ascension Release date: May 13, 2011



TIMELESS MUCHA ~

 






R E A D   M E


    d.a.p 2025


Sunday, November 30, 2025

PJ HARVEY TONIGHT ~

 




NICOLAS GUILLEN ~

 




NOTICE


By resolution of the Local Authority

this great zoo was created

for natives and foreigners

and the pride of our nation.

Among the most prized specimens

are the water and wind animals

(as in the case of the hurricane),

also, a real live Aconcagua,

a teenage guitar,

living clouds,

one professor monkey, and another embryonic one.


Fatherland or Death?

     

                                               THE DIRECTOR



THE CARIBBEAN


In the aquarium of the Great Zoo

the Caribbean slips by.


                This animal,

enigmatic and maritime,

has a crest of crystal glass,

a blue back, a green tail,

an underbelly of compact corral,

and the gray fins of a hurricane.

On the aquarium, this inscription:

                                                         "Caution: it bites."




GUITAR


They went out hunting for guitars,

underneath the full moon.

And they brought back her:

pale, fine, lithe,

ceaseless mulata eyes,

a waist of open wood.

She's young, just barely flies.

But already she sings

when she hears, in other cages,

the flittering wings of sones and coplas.

His somber sones and her lonely coplas.

On her cage is this inscription: 

                                                    "Caution: she dreams."



THE RIVERS


Here is the serpent's cage.

Coiled up on themselves,

the rivers, the sacred rivers, sleep.

The Mississippi with its Blacks,

the Amazon with its Indians.

They are like the powerful springs

of gigantic trailer trucks.


Laughing, children toss them

little green living islands,

parrot-painted jungles,

manned canoes,

and other rivers.


The great rivers wake up,

uncoil themselves slowly,

gobble down everything, swell, almost bursting,

and then go back to sleep.




HURRICANE


A thoroughbred hurricane,

just arrived in Cuba from the Bahamas.

Raised in Bermuda

but has family in Barbados.

Has been to Puerto Rico.

Ripped out the mainmast of Jamaica by the roots.

Was going to ravage Guadeloupe.

Did ravage Martinique.

Age: two days.


_________________

Nicolas Guillen

The Great Zoo

translated by Aaron Coleman

The University of Chicago Press, 2024


photograph:

Langston Hughes, Michael Koltyov, Ernest Hemingway, Nicolas Guillen in Madrid, 1937




Saturday, November 29, 2025

OSTAP SLYVYNSKY ~

 





Amber


Tell me, was it a joke? I have been digging

all night long, just like you told me to;

mice were laughing at me.

I seemed to see, on the other side,

the sun warming the leaves,

children being readied for school,

their white collars straightened,

people checking if the iron was left on,

watering petunias from a tin

watering can.

I could swear I heard

a heart beating through the clay. But was I

teasing this hope for nothing?

For nothing, I shuffled the earth, looking for even

a single bright thread in it?

Explain this to me, while I'm standing

staring at my own open palm.

There—right under my ring finger—

where the handle of a shovel rubbed my skin,

a grain of amber is now growing,

like a lamp, lit for a short while

in some purgatory of my own

with my very own hand.



__________________

Ostap Slyvynsky

Winter King

translated by Vitaly Chernetsky & Iryna Shuvalova

Lost Horse Press, 2023