Contemporary Indonesian Art – Tracy Hamer
Note: Tracy Hamer is an American artist who has lived in Bali for the past twelve years.
Below – “Another dreamer”; “Classic Bikini Pink Drip”; “Lady Sunglasses”’; “Girl wet hair”; “Straw Hat”; “skirt shadow”
by Christine Stewart-Nunez
Through the bedroom window
a February sunrise, fog suspended
between pines. Intricate crystals—
hoarfrost lace on a cherry tree.
My son calls out, awake. We sway,
blanket-wrapped, his head nuzzling
my neck. Hoarfrost, tree—I point,
shaping each word. Favorable
conditions: a toddler’s brain, hard
data-mining, a system’s approach.
Hoar, he hears. His hand reaches
to the wallpaper lion. Phenomena
converge: warmth, humidity,
temperature’s sudden plunge;
a child’s brain, objects, sound.
Eyes widening, he opens his mouth
Contemporary Belgian Art – Nicoleta Costiuc
Below- “La Piscine 4”; “Elles 5”; “Prague 1”; “La Piscine 2”; “New York 2.”
by Trish Crapo
Out in the yard, my sister and I
tore thread from century plants
to braid into bracelets, ate
chalky green bananas,
threw coconuts onto the sidewalk
to crack their hard, hairy skulls.
The world had begun to happen,
but not time. We would live
forever, sunburnt and pricker-stuck,
our promises written in blood. Not yet
would men or illness distinguish us,
our thoughts cleave us in two.
If she squeezed sour calamondins
into a potion, I drank it. When I jumped
from the fig tree, she jumped.
Below – Marcel Garbi: “Sisterhood”
Contemporary American Art – Debra Bretton Robinson: Part I of II.
Below – “Blessed by the Zest”; “Essex River”; “The Amber Acre”; “Red cottages on Long Sought for Pond”; “Red Gables”; “Pemaquid Point.’
This Date in Literary History: Born 17 January 1914 – William Stafford, an American poet, essayist, and recipient of the National Book Award: Part I of II.
“Traveling Through The Dark”
by William Stafford
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason–
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all–my only swerving–,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
Below – “Lowell Deluge”; “Massapong Point”; “Spring Thaw”; “Salt Island Sun Porch”; “Red Winged”; “Spring Zing.”
This Date in Literary History: Born 17 January 1914 – William Stafford, an American poet, essayist, and recipient of the National Book Award: Part II of II.
“At the Un-National Monument along the Canadian Border’
by William Stafford
This is the field where the battle did not happen,
where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where grass joined hands,
where no monument stands,
and the only heroic thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
unfolding their wings across the open.
No people killed—or were killed—on this ground
hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
that people celebrate it by forgetting its name.