This Dark Light that Falls from the Stars, 1996 by Anselm Kiefer
The spectral possibility that gives lyric its urgency is not that the beloved isn’t listening, but that the beloved doesn’t exist. Prayer takes place at the edge of a similar abyss.
from “The Sower against Gardens” by Linda Gregerson
Nan Goldin, My White Birds, Sag Harbour, N.Y, 2001
Anselm Kiefer, Rapunzel, 2005. Oil, paint, emulsion, shellac, soil on photographic paper on cardboard with hair. 100 x 75 cm
Tracey Emin, “Sometimes the dress is worth more money than the money”, 2000
Georgia O’Keeffe, Misti–A Memory, 1957
Scraps of Moon
Scraps of moon
bobbing discarded on broken water
but sky-moon
complete, transcending
all violation
Here she seems to be talking to herself about
the shape of a life:
Only Once
All which, because it was
flame and song and granted us
joy, we thought we’d do, be, revisit,
turns out to have been what it was
that once, only; every invitation
did not begin
a series, a build-up: the marvelous
did not happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but don’t
expect to return for more. Whatever more
there will be will be
unique as those were unique. Try
to acknowledge the next
song in its body-halo of flames as utterly
present, as now or never.
–Denise Levertov
Cy Twombly, Untitled, 1955
Louise Bourgeois, Eugénie Grandet, Suite of 16, mixed media on cloth, 2009
Kiki Smith, Dead Crow, 1995, ink and collage on paper
Little Bristling Soul 