Contemporary Colombian Art – Johanna Acosta
Below – “Moon Path”; “Inner Sense”; “Fragmented Re-Born”; “Innocence meets wisdom”; “Floracion”; “Primal Wisdom.”
This Date in Literary History: Born 21 June 1942 – Henry Taylor, an American poet and recipient of the Pulitzer Prize.
“For William Stafford”
by Henry Taylor
30 August 1993
Someone we love, old friend, has telephoned
to let me know you’re gone – and so you are.
I touch the steady books; my mind casts back,
then forth, and says, as you said once, so long –
I look toward seeing you everywhere.
Below – William Stafford, an American poet.
Contemporary Romanian Art – Liviu Mihai
Below – “Exotic”; “Cloudy Sunday”; “The Kiss”; “In a dream”; “Evening light”; “Inn my room.”
A Poem for Today
“A Drink of Water”
by Jeffrey Harrison
When my nineteen-year-old son turns on the kitchen tap
and leans down over the sink and tilts his head sideways
to drink directly from the stream of cool water,
I think of my older brother, now almost ten years gone,
who used to do the same thing at that age;
And when he lifts his head back up and, satisfied,
wipes the water dripping from his cheek
with his shirtsleeve, it’s the same casual gesture
my brother used to make; and I don’t tell him
to use a glass, the way our father told my brother,
because I like remembering my brother
when he was young, decades before anything
went wrong, and I like the way my son
becomes a little more my brother for a moment
through this small habit born of a simple need,
which, natural and unprompted, ties them together
across the bounds of death, and across time . . .
as if the clear stream flowed between two worlds
and entered this one through the kitchen faucet,
my son and brother drinking the same water.
Below – “Isolating”; “Underpass”; “Slunna”; “Midnight Swim”; “The Prospector”; “Cape Doom”
by Freya Manfred
Old friends are a steady spring rain,
or late summer sunshine edging into fall,
or frosted leaves along a snowy path—
a voice for all seasons saying, ‘I know you.’
The older I grow, the more I fear I’ll lose my old friends,
as if too many years have scrolled by
since the day we sprang forth, seeking each other.
Old friend, I knew you before we met.
I saw you at the window of my soul—
I heard you in the steady millstone of my heart
grinding grain for our daily bread.
You are sedimentary, rock-solid cousin earth,
where I stand firmly, astonished by your grace and truth.
And gratitude comes to me and says:
“Tell me anything and I will listen.
Ask me anything, and I will answer you.”
Below – Bruce Johnson: “Three Old Friends Having Dimsum”
Contemporary Finnish Art – Serguei Zlenko
Below – “In the dressing room”; “The emerald beads”; “Botanical garden”; “At the old pier”; “Gemelli”; “Girl from Madeira.”
by Holly J. Hughes
Only a beige slat of sun
above the horizon, like a shade
pulled not quite down. Otherwise,
clouds. Sea rippled here and
there. Birds reluctant to fly.
The mind wants a shaft of sun to
stir the grey porridge of clouds,
an osprey to stitch sea to sky
with its barred wings, some dramatic
music: a symphony, perhaps
a Chinese gong.
But the mind always
wants more than it has—
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses—as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren’t enough,
as if joy weren’t strewn all around.
Below – Twyla Gettert: “Ocean Sky”