no more chemicals…
ooh! a stick!
an essay in the sand!
and! and! and! and?
kelp lice hop among the dis i n te gr a t i ng l et t ers
the sea yawns loudly.
so did my friends.
they went home,
with the tide.
they’re in bed.
i tried the same.
a hatful of hollow is quite a lot of nothing.
That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling, she knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, ‘O sea-starved, hungry sea.’
What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.
He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.
‘This is the way,’ laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
‘The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.’
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, —
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.
“If I was where I would be,
Then I’d be where I am not.
Here I am where I must be;
Where I would be, I can not.”
Halfway up the stairs
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
It’s somewhere else
I just love the ´dirty´work of Chadwick Tyler. These photos were part of his exhibition ´Tiberius´, 2009.
“Every project I do revolves around the model, “the girl.” For me, to work with a model is to find a connection, to develop a mode of communication & to create a relationship, in order to draw what is within her out to the surface. My job is to enable a model to feel comfortable being vulnerable in a way that shows up on camera. Documenting the range of a girl’s personality that emerges is everything to me; especially when it’s something she didn’t know was there.” – Chadwick Tyler
when the wind’s howling,
i blow kisses into it,
hoping they’ll find you;
smack you sideways.
View more of this prodigiously talented South African’s work HERE.
“I turn around backwards and off slides my face.”
“I know I wish sometimes, just so I could explain things,
I wish that every time he touched me left a mark.”
“I only play-act for real.”
Brian Jonestown Massacre cover. Video from Peter Tscherkassky found footage.