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Alice's magic potion, morphine lip-gloss, & the loneliness of forests

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a poem inspired by a painting inspired by a poem

I'll be reading a poem in front of this painting at the Ashmolean's Blake exhibit this Saturday, January 24th. I'll be reading with Oxfordshire poets Julie Forth,Mary Stableford, Merryn Williams, Nick Owen, and Derek Summers. I can't wait to hear their interpretations.

I listened to the Divine Comedy on Librivox on a trip through Italy last year; Cantos I-V were especially divine, read by Cori Samuel, whose voice I became very much infatuated with.

I wrote my Blake-inspired poem in the dark last night. I enjoy writing in the dark with my eyes closed. I see the words in my mind more intimately, more immediately, than when they're on paper, or on a laptop, far away at the end of my arm. In the dark there is no arm. The words are only legible in my head.

Here's the rough draft I wrote in the dark (I can usually manage to untangle the words the next day):

And here is a little sneak-peek at the first 4 lines of my poem all dressed up to go to the museum:

Canto V, L…

Danish wedding vows

Welcome to Copenhagen City Hall. My name is Thune Lindberg. I am the registrar and will be performing the marriage ceremony today.
You have contacted the Copenhagen City Hall for the purpose of entering a civil marriage, and your wish to marry will now be confirmed before the public authorities.
Prior to the marriage, I would like to remind you of the meaning and the importance of the vow which you are making to each other by this act.
A wedding is a joyful occasion, but it also implies deep commitment. Marriage is one of the most important events in a person’s life. It gives you rights, but also responsibilities and it assumes a desire to live with each other in mutual love, helpfulness and tolerance
Marriage is perhaps the greatest and most challenging adventure of human relationships.
No ceremony can create your marriage - only you can do that
* through love,  patience and dedication * through talking and listening, helping, supporting and believing in each other * through tenderness a…

unwrapping god in vienna

Folded Altars and Parchment Apothecaries: To What Extent Did Text and Image in Sixteenth-Century Paper Amulets Reconcile Christianity and Superstition?

I. Introduction

This thesis will be the first English-language investigation of sixteenth century paper amulets in Germany, Austria, and Italy; specifically, paper amulets such as Breverl, Esszettel, Chartulas, and Cantigas that were either worn against the body or ingested.

I have decided not to include other types of amulets, talismans, or spiritual keepsakes such as pilgrim’s badges or Wettersegen, for example, because such a broad sample would quickly overstep the bounds of an eight-thousand word essay.

I have chosen to research the imagery and narratives in paper amulets because:

- They were inexpensive and could be made at home, purchased on pilgrimage, or given as gifts (St. Francis was fond of creating folded paper amulets with holy texts and images and giving them as gifts). Their humble and inexpensive manufacture made them a w…

lace, cotton and pinpricks

I've been teaching myself how to sew clothes for a while now, but my attention span is so short: I'm always left wishing I had only one arm and one leg. Everything must be duplicated, which I find difficult. I can write for 12 hours straight, day after day, but writing with thread, in three dimensions, creating a second body for myself? Oh it's lovely but tedious.

I long to be in Campion's Bright Star, the needle ripping into white fabric, the sound of the thread strumming through. Sometimes I listen to video tutorials just to hear the machinery of creation; the slice of scissors, the bite of ripped tape, and hum of sewing machines. Each sound is decisive. I'm calmed by the industry of all those hands, like stars, or the Morai, dictating the fate of small objects.

I have my own sense of style; part Regency, part swagger, part prairie girl, part pixie, part Stevie Nicks meets the 17th century. Aprons, tucks, folds, voluminous skirts to get lost in....and shit-kicki…

broken poetry for broken times

Like many of you, I feel the need to bear testament now more than ever, to memorialize lost lives in the face of so much terror. Every day is scarred, and sacred.

I often write about the wabi-sabi beauty of broken things, particularly the Japanese craft of Kintsukoroi - reassembling and healing shattered bowls, vases, and mugs with gold enamel - holding the brokenness together. Kintsukoroi is often described as "broken pottery," a term that I misread (as I often do) as "broken poetry." 

The idea struck me - broken poetry. I wondered what a broken poem would look and sound like; all hard edges, like falling glass? Knives piled precariously one atop the other? 

I wondered if the sharp edges of the poems would need fixing -- if I could gilt the wounds of broken poems like Kintsukoroi pottery, healing with gold enamel in the sutures where blood would be.  These shattered days and minutes look like Kintsukoroi above our pulse points: watch-faces with gold second hands like…