April 2013
1 post
March 2013
13 posts
4 tags
Poem to Kali 3/14/13
Ma,
You call to him with your tenderest voice and watch with predators eyes my feeble jealousy, knowing his other woman is a goddess whose dance swallows the whole earth in Her pulsing passion.
You formed me this way, your daughter, your darling, with snarled curls and a heart that burns to embers any man or child I touch, i’m only hoping I’ll remember You in some haunted lullaby...
2 tags
Sanyal Productions: In My Craft or Sullen Art →
ayansanyal:
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labor by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart....
In my craft or sullen art, written in the late 1940’s by Dylan Thomas
4 tags
The Songwriter's Wife →
Introduction to my new blog feature on literary and musical power couples, a little personal musing, more to come soon! Will be writing about Yoko Ono, Courtney love, Caitlin Thomas, and more!
3 tags
3 tags
“I know we’re not saints or virgins or lunatics; we know all the lust and...”
– Dylan Thomas, “The Love Letters of Dylan Thomas” (via your-madman)
Midway through Dylan Thomas biography, fascinated by his relationship with his wife Caitlin.
5 tags
“He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.”
– dylan thomas (via life-on-the-geek-side)
3 tags
the FOUND Side of Lost: And death shall have no... →
foundsideoflost:
And death shall have no dominion. Dead men naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall…
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
Sanyal Productions: In My Craft or Sullen Art →
ayansanyal:
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labor by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart....
In an intense Dylan Thomas phase due to that poet husband of mine
May 2012
9 posts
3 tags
“I am not what I am; I am what I do with my hands.”
– Louise Bourgeois
January 2011
2 posts
my songwriter;
my songwriter is a poet.
a poet in denial, maybe in overalls, but a poet,
a wordsmith on the edge, carving words from stones and hearing the water.
the burial of the dead
‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’ —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
-t.s. eliot, “The Wasteland: 1 the Burial of the Dead”
