Contemporary Russian Art – Renat Renee-Ell
Below (photographs) – ‘in someone else”; “Lilo”; “White”; “Breathe”; “In someone else”; “Say My Name.”
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
Below – John ho: “Mystery Full Moon and Stars”
Below – “Held by the Sun’s Gaze”; “Self Portrait”; “That’s So Raven”; “Lion’s Gate 444”; “Fairy Lit Nights”; “Weather Girl.”
A Poem for Today
by David Baker
Small flames afloat in blue duskfall, beneath trees
anonymous and hooded, the solemn trees—by ones
and twos and threes we go down to the water’s level edge
with our candles cupped and melted into little pie-tins
to set our newest loss free. Everyone is here.
Everyone is wholly quiet in the river’s hush and appropriate dark.
The tenuous fires slip from our palms and seem to settle
in the stilling water, but then float, ever so slowly,
in a loose string like a necklace’s pearls spilled,
down the river barely as wide as a dusty road.
No one is singing, and no one leaves—we stand back
beneath the grieving trees on both banks, bowed but watching,
as our tiny boats pass like a long history of moons
reflected, or like notes in an elder’s hymn, or like us,
death after death, around the far, awakening bend.
Contemporary Portuguese Art – Susana Bravo
Below – “The Quietness of the Space Made It Eligible”; “Words and Worlds Too”;”What does the Baiana have…”; “Remarkable for Life”; “see who you take after”; “Little Yellow Sunshine.”
A Poem for Today
“For the Sake of Strangers”
by Dorianne Laux
No matter what the grief, its weight,
we are obliged to carry it.
We rise and gather momentum, the dull strength
that pushes us through crowds.
And then the young boy gives me directions
so avidly. A woman holds the glass door open,
waiting patiently for my empty body to pass through.
All day it continues, each kindness
reaching toward another—a stranger
singing to no one as I pass on the path, trees
offering their blossoms, a child
who lifts his almond eyes and smiles.
Somehow they always find me, seem even
to be waiting, determined to keep me
from myself, from the thing that calls to me
as it must have once called to them—
this temptation to step off the edge
and fall weightless, away from the world.
Below – Sonal Poghat: “Longing”