Monday, December 28, 2009

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

¨¨*:•.(¯`'•.¸Sita Sings The Blues¸.•'´¯) .•:*¨¨

To be watched when you have time to really pay attention.
CLICK HERE When you get there, there is an option for Full Screen.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Very Moving & Beautifully Done . . .

Turn up your sound and watch this unfold in a very creative way.

Kseniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who just won Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent." She uses a giant light box, dramatic music, imagination and "sand painting" skills to interpret Germany's invasion and occupation of Ukraine during WWII.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Great Idea . . .

I'm hoping this catches on!

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

When in both.

The Tempest by John William Waterhouse

Monday, September 21, 2009

I know this feeling . . .

Miranda by John William Waterhouse

Friday, September 11, 2009

Remembering Both September Elevenths

Martín Espada, Edward Hirsch, and others speak about poetry
in relation to September 11th . . .

This is the story of two horrific events that changed two countries on September 11th and the undocumented victims of both acts. It is also about Martín Espada, an extraordinary poet and human rights advocate, who wrote the definitive poem about 9/11 and his journey to Santiago to participate in the 100th Anniversary of Chile's greatest poet, Pablo Neruda

Alabanza by Martín Espada

Alabanza: In Praise of Local 100

for the 43 members of Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees
Local 100, working at the Windows on the World restaurant,
who lost their lives in the attack on the World Trade Center

Alabanza. Praise the cook with a shaven head
and a tattoo on his shoulder that said Oye,
a blue-eyed Puerto Rican with people from Fajardo,
the harbor of pirates centuries ago.
Praise the lighthouse in Fajardo, candle
glimmering white to worship the dark saint of the sea.
Alabanza. Praise the cook's yellow Pirates cap
worn in the name of Roberto Clemente, his plane
that flamed into the ocean loaded with cans for Nicaragua,
for all the mouths chewing the ash of earthquakes.
Alabanza. Praise the kitchen radio, dial clicked
even before the dial on the oven, so that music and Spanish
rose before bread. Praise the bread. Alabanza.

Praise Manhattan from a hundred and seven flights up,
like Atlantis glimpsed through the windows of an ancient aquarium.
Praise the great windows where immigrants from the kitchen
could squint and almost see their world, hear the chant of nations:
Ecuador, México, Republica Dominicana,
Haiti, Yemen, Ghana, Bangladesh.
. Praise the kitchen in the morning,
where the gas burned blue on every stove
and exhaust fans fired their diminutive propellers,
hands cracked eggs with quick thumbs
or sliced open cartons to build an altar of cans.
Alabanza. Praise the busboy's music, the chime-chime
of his dishes and silverware in the tub.
Alabanza. Praise the dish-dog, the dishwasher
who worked that morning because another dishwasher
could not stop coughing, or because he needed overtime
to pile the sacks of rice and beans for a family
floating away on some Caribbean island plagued by frogs.

Alabanza. Praise the waitress who heard the radio in the kitchen
and sang to herself about a man gone. Alabanza.

After the thunder wilder than thunder,
after the shudder deep in the glass of the great windows,
after the radio stopped singing like a tree full of terrified frogs,
after night burst the dam of day and flooded the kitchen,
for a time the stoves glowed in darkness like the lighthouse in Fajardo,
like a cook's soul. Soul I say, even if the dead cannot tell us
about the bristles of God's beard because God has no face,
soul I say, to name the smoke-beings flung in constellations
across the night sky of this city and cities to come.
Alabanza I say, even if God has no face.

Alabanza. When the war began, from Manhattan and Kabul
two constellations of smoke rose and drifted to each other,
mingling in icy air, and one said with an Afghan tongue:
Teach me to dance. We have no music here.
And the other said with a Spanish tongue:
I will teach you. Music is all we have.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Shine On Michael . . .

Michael Jackson ~ Rest In Peace
August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Poetry

Erato ~ The Greecian Poetry Muse
My Friends ~ Poetry In Action

Work In Progress . . .

Thursday, February 05, 2009

Happy Birthday Burroughs!

. . . Thanks for everything!

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Our President Elect, Barack Obama ...

... is a day and a half away from being sworn in!
...... and the man can dance!
The festivities are already underway.
Excitement is in the air in a big way.
This feels so good!
This footage is about a year old, but I don't care, I love it!