Praise Song for the Day, by Elizabeth Alexander

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.


Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

(no subject)

Under the cut is a page from "The Long Tomorrow," written by Dan O'Bannon and illustrated by Jean Giraud, AKA Moebius, a story famously credited as inspiring Blade Runner's cityscapes.

( Read more... )

I'd love to read this, but unfortunately, my library doesn't have a copy. I have this horrible feeling that this itch will lead to me buying a bunch of old Heavy Metal issues.

Here's an interesting poster I found, while hunting for "The Long Tomorrow". Tetsuo (from Akira), by Moebius

( Read more... )

What got me hunting in the first place, was part of a mini-doc on Moebius that I watched during my first cup of coffee. I caught the bits about his time with an odd collective (with shades of cultlike characteristics to it), and his work on Alien. I'm crazy about the Alien series, though I don't think I've ever talked about said craziness here. (A couple of years ago I read a long and involving feminist rereading of the whole series, that I'm forever trying to track down. There are more than a few of them, so it gets complicated).

Anyway, today's tidbit of art, besides the above Moebius, is Necronom IV by HR Giger. This painting was the beginning of the Alien; it's what got him a job as a conceptual artist and designer for the film. It's easy to see how we got to the Alien queen and the facehuggers from here.

Marry, F*ck, or Kill #3: Ubiquitous gadgets of the 21st century

Three characters, people, animals, vegetables or minerals are given, and you must choose one to marry, one to f*ck and one to kill. No fence sitting. No halfsies. Ya gotta choose.

This one is designed to make you choose between your cell phone, your mp3 player and your laptop. Or alternately, those of others. I'm not giving you a combined option. Which one would you perish without? Which one would you like to see perish? (Damn ring tones!)

[Poll #1335786]