Archive for the ‘gallery of the beautiful ugly’ Category
whoever will wear
- American Journalist: If you were to give advice to a woman, what would it be?
- Edith Piaf: Love
- American Journalist: To a young girl?
- Edith Piaf: Love
- American Journalist: To a child?
- Edith Piaf: Love.
- American Journalist: Who are you knitting for?
- Edith Piaf: Whoever will wear my sweater.
love, love this image! (edith piaf, 1949)
interview via here
and a song: chante moi
for a time, I rest
“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
― Wendell Berry, Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community
— image: here
homemade granola
- 5 cups organic rolled oats (or any oats of choice)
- 1/3 cup ground golden flax
- 1/2 cup maple syrup (or maybe agave?)
- 1/3 cup oil of choice
- 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 3/4 teaspoon sea salt
- 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
- handful of slivered almonds
- handful of raisins
In the bowl of a food processor, add 1 ½ cup of oats and flax. Process until a coarse oat flour is produced.
In a large mixing bowl combine this flour with the remaining 3 ½ cups of oats, maple syrup, oil, cinnamon, salt, vanilla.
Stir until all ingredients are thoroughly combined and moistened.
Spread onto a sheet pan coated with parchment paper, silpat mat, or lightly oiled foil.
Bake at 300 degrees for 35-50 minutes. Bake until crisp and golden brown.
Cool completely on sheet pan. Store in air-tight container.
*Add in ideas:
- dried fruit
- goji berries or any dried berries
- banana chips
- chocolate chips
- any combo of nuts
- any combo of seeds
- toasted coconut
playing dead
the girls have a new game they play outside -
one lies down on the ground, face up, eyes closed,
dead grass knotted in her hair.
one sister comes to the rescue,
placing the dead sister in the little red wagon
and carting her to the gazebo, which is really the hospital.
The sister pulling the red wagon is really a doctor
who saves the other sister
with concoctions of dead leaves, berries, and dirt,
which they call medicine.
the father leaves the door open while he works,
listening as the sisters play.
meanwhile, the contractions become
more intense, and the mother
makes a batch of homemade granola
for the nest.
… only a few more weeks,
dearest friends.
illustration from the dead bird by margaret wise brown
this notion of time
anniversary poem
later, you would shave your head. and i would trim the hair
on the nape of your neck. this notion of time, a passing year,
another we’ve made together.
you ask me – what sex is the baby.
but i don’t answer. instead, i tell you
it is okay for you to remarry when i die.
i see it in my face more than yours.
these gray roots and the lines around my mouth.
- she will have your eyes.
i woke up last night, and the porch light was on.
i swear i heard rain. a ghost reached for you.
and then i found you -
asleep between two daughters,
wearing an old sweater
i bought you years ago.
randoms
- clogs + rolled jeans
- elbow patches
- mix plaid
- awkward layering
- multi-colored faux fur
- with tunic
stone’s widow
from: what love comes to: new and selected poems
___
“You are a lovely link
in the great chain of being
Think how lucky it is to be born.”
___
dust
Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
image from Martina Hoogland Ivanow – Satellite
i hold your hand,
first born.
this is how you know
i’ve memorized
the length of your fingers. and when
you’re biting your nails again.
she held my hand, too,
bending my fingers upward
at the knuckles.
Perhaps, she thought,
i would be a dancer
instead of the sparrow
that, one day, would flee
her nest.
image: here
love mugs
Billy Al Bengston, cups, 1957 via an ambitious project collapsing
