Sentient in San Francisco – 4 December 2018

Contemporary Romanian Art – Oana Unciuleanu: Part I of II.

Below – “Burning Flame”; “Creation of Man”; “Wondering”; “Talking”; “Still Life”; “Shadow.”

A Poem for Today

“Cash Register Sings The Blues”
by Maria Nazos

This ‘isn’t’ my dream-job. As a young sheet
of steel and plastic I dreamt of being melted

down into a dancer’s pole in Vegas. I wanted
a woman in a headdress glossy as a gossamer

to wrap her lithe limbs around me. I wanted
to be strewn in lights, smell her powdery perfume.

Instead I’m a squat box crouched behind the counter,
noticed only if someone robs me. I’m touched all day,

but never caressed. Listen: somewhere gold tokens
spew from slots. I want to drink space-alien-dyed martinis on black

leather sectional couches. Watch tipsy women with acid-
washed jeans and teased hair dreamily press their faces

against slot machines while people treat currency
carelessly as spit in the wind.

I’m everywhere you look, ubiquitous and ignored.
I’m the container of your dreams that tossed aside my own.

I’ve kept my clean, sleek lines but you never say a thing.
Feed me, feed me with the only love we know.


Contemporary Romanian Art – Oana Unciuleanu: Part II of II.

Below – “To Bid You Farewell”; “Looking Left”; “Desert Light”; “Feel the Spark”; “Really?”; “I found you in the dark.”

Remembering a Writer on the Date of His Birth: Born 4 December 1875 – Rainer Maria Rilke, an Austrian-Swiss poet and author.

Some quotes from the work of Rainer Maria Rilke:

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
“Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
“The highest form of love is to be the protector of another person’s solitude.”
“Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows.”
“Perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.”
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
“I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.
Think… of the world you carry within you, and call this thinking whatever you want to: a remembering of your own childhood or a yearning toward a future of your own – only be attentive to what is arising within you, and place that above everything you perceive around you. What is happening in your innermost self is worthy of your entire love; somehow you must find a way to work at it.”
“This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.”
“To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. Love is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world for himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things.”
“The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.”
“It is always what I have already said: always the wish that you may find patience enough in yourself to endure, and simplicity enough to believe; that you may acquire more and more confidence in that which is difficult, and in your solitude among others. And for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is right, in any case.”
“Understand, I’ll slip quietly away from the noisy crowd when I see the pale stars rising, blooming, over the oaks. I’ll pursue solitary pathways through the pale twilit meadows with only this one dream: You come too.”
“I am so glad you are here. It helps me realize how beautiful my world is.”


Contemporary American Art – Rely Penezic: Part I of II.

Below – “California Road Chronicles #8”; “California Road Chronicles #63”; “Extreme Loafing & Idling #36”; “California Road Chronicles #62”; “Out of Here”; “California Road Chronicles #68.”


Remembering a Writer on the Date of Her Death: Died 4 December 2014 – Claudia Emerson, an American poet and recipient of the Pulitzer Prize.

“Eight Ball”
by Claudia Emerson

It was fifty cents a game
beneath exhausted ceiling fans,
the smoke’s old spiral. Hooded lights
burned distant, dull. I was tired, but you
insisted on one more, so I chalked
the cue—the bored blue—broke, scratched.
It was always possible
for you to run the table, leave me
nothing. But I recall the easy
shot you missed, and then the way
we both studied, circling—keeping
what you had left me between us.

Contemporary American Art – Rely Penezic: Part II of II.

Below – “Extreme Loafing & Idling #34”; “Extreme Loafing & Idling #35”; “Extreme Loafing & Idling #16”; “California Road Chronicles #66”; “California Road Chronicles #71 (Silence)”; “Zen of L.A. (Shadows)”; “Extreme Loafing & Idling #29.”


A Poem for Today

“Bees Were Better”
by Naomi Shihab Nye

In college, people were always breaking up.
We broke up in parking lots,
beside fountains.
Two people broke up
across a table from me
at the library.
I could not sit at that table again
though I did not know them.
I studied bees, who were able
to convey messages through dancing
and could find their ways
home to their hives
even if someone put up a blockade of sheets
and boards and wire.
Bees had radar in their wings and brains
that humans could barely understand.
I wrote a paper proclaiming
their brilliance and superiority
and revised it at a small café
featuring wooden hive-shaped honey-dippers
in silver honeypots
at every table.

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