Here we have some urban infrastructure, early twentieth-century, as preserved at the History Park. Perhaps we should put in for some government bucks? And redevelop? Today the stock market slid some more. It always reminds me of my father's faith in his beloved GE stock. How the mighty have fallen! But I still have faith in GE stock, in the long run.
This is another of the infrared shots from last month, with the shadows boosted and the color warmed. I love this effect, but I am often too easily satisfied.
There is a better-than-average interview with the new Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan, in the new Paris Review, which mag, by the way is getting very handsome--soon it might be almost unrecognizable to those of us who loved the bad-paper rag of yesteryear. But I appreciate this new look and the color photo portfolios. (This one of SPLENDID photos of small-boat commercial fishing.) Also, this time they have facsimilies of Ezra Pound's typed letters and almost illegible scrawl. He really did have some sosrt of brain-worm, I think, and an almost limitless self-regard. "Interesting, provocative," as Granny Goose used to say about the flavor in the commercial for her (now defunct?) potato chips.
Here, for tonight, is one sentence only (p. 57) from the Kay Ryan interview. "I like the sound of facts, but I don't care about them as facts. I like them for texture. As for reality, I don't even have an interest in that word." THINK ABOUT THAT! BIFF! POW! BANG! Soon, I'll give you something else she said--that relates very strongly to the Bly poem below in the form he calls ramage.
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