yeh, raph.

last read book 'going postal - rage, murder and rebellion: From Reagan's workplaces to clinton's Columbine and Beyond' byM ark Ames. also by him, 'The War we don't know'

reading Italo Calvino's Cosmicomics... "The distance of the Moon" - what a story!

love Eric's voice over D.H. Lawrence's 'Honeymoon'

complete poetry and prose of William Blake

Poetic Sketches

*To SPRING

 
 O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

 
 The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

 
 Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

 
 O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

 
 * TO SUMMER
O thou who passest thro' our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched'st here thy goldent tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.

 
 Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
Rode o'er the deep of heaven; beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.

 
 Our bards are fam'd who strike the silver wire:
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.

 
 * TO AUTUMN

 
 O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

 
 'The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

 
 'The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

 
 * TO WINTER

 
 O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.'

 
 He hears me not, but o'er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain'd, sheathd
In ribbd steel; I dare not lift mine eyes,
For he hath rear'd his sceptre o'er the world.

 
 Lo! now the direful monster, whose 1000 skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

 
 He takes his seat upon the cliffs,--the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch, that deal'st
With storms!--till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driv'n yelling to his caves beneath mount Hecla.

 
 * TO MORNING

 
 O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth;
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant morning, salute the sun
Rous'd like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskin'd feet appear upon our hills.

 
 * TO THE EVENING STAR

 
 Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wing sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest.
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with
Thy sacred dew; protect with them with thine influence.

 
 * SONG: How sweet I roam'd from field to field

 
 How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
'Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!

 
 He shew'd me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

 
 With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

 
 He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me,
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.

 
 * THE GARDEN OF LOVE

 
 * HUMAN ABSTRACT

Aloysius Bertrand : First French Prose Poet

Gaspard de la nuit - http://allthingsgo.us/Richard_Walker_Live_at_Capp_St__Track__6_64kb.mp3

Ondine from Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel. To play, doubleclick black arrow at left & wait a few seconds... black block to stop.

ONDINE

Translated by Michael Benedikt

I fell asleep, and thought I heard ere long A harmony, subtle and enchanting; And close beside me a gentle murmuring So tender and sad it can silence song. Ch. Brugnot--The Two Sylphs

"Listen!--Listen!--it's me down here, Ondine, splashing all these droplets against your casement windowpanes so that they echo, here in the dim, regretful moonlight; and up there, high above us in her black silk dress, is the chateau's lady upon her balcony, gazing out at this beautiful starry night and at my lovely, sleeping lake.

"Each ripple that you see is a water-sprite, swimming in the flowing currents; each current of each stream winds path-like towards my palace; and my palace, too, is a liquid domain, located well beneath the lake-waters, in the triangle of fire, and earth, and air.

"Listen!--Listen!--my father stirs the croaking stream with a green birch branch, and my sisters with their foam-flecked arms embrace entire islands of iris, water-lilies, and glistening stands of grass; or, giggling, make mock of the ancient, bearded willow, as he bends his back and goes on fishing."

And when her softly murmured song was done, she begged me outright to slip her ring on my finger, so as to become an Ondine's husband; and to return with her to her palace, there to become king of the lakes.

And when I told her I loved a mortal woman, she pouted as if vexed; then shed a teardrop or two--but finally burst out into laughter, to dissolve then like radiant raindrops, streaming down the length of my blue-black windows....

The Gallows from Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel

THE GALLOWS

Translated by Michael Benedikt What's that up there, still stirring on the gallows?--Faust

Ah! What's this I hear now, might it perhaps be the cold north wind whining, or a hanged man sighing his last sighs atop the gallowstree?

Might it perhaps be some cricket singing, ensconced within the carpet of mosses and ground-ivies that so mercifully enfold the forest floor?

Might it perhaps be some fly in its flight, hunting down its prey and tooting its tiny horn into ears otherwise gone deaf to the sound of triumphant trumpet-calls?

Might it perhaps be some beetle in its wayward, erratic flight, plucking a single, bloodstained hair-strand from out of that dead bald skull?

Or might it perhaps be some spider, weaving from a half-measure of muslin a long tie for his strangled neck?

No: it's a bell slowly tolling from the walls of some distant city beneath the horizon; and a hanged man's corpse, swinging back and forth, reddened by rays of the setting sun....

Scarbo from Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel

SCARBO

Translated by Michael Benedikt He searched under the bed, looked up the chimney, scoured the cupboard-- nobody! He just couldn't figure out how he'd gotten in or out. E.T.A. Hoffmann--Nocturnal Tales.

Oh! How many times have I seen and heard Scarbo, with the moon shining bright in the midnight sky like a silver shield on an azure banner studded with golden bees!

How often have I heard the vibrations of his laughter, buzzing somewhere in the shadows of my bedroom, and the scratching of his nails raking down the length of the silk curtains around my bed!

How often have I seen him descending from the ceiling, then pirouetting on one leg and spinning around in my room--like a spindle flung out from some witch's distaff!

Did I think he'd vanished? Between me and moon that dwarf would loom, like a Gothic cathedral's belfry, with a golden bell atop his pointed cap!

But soon his body turned blue, and as transparent as wax dripping down a candle and with his face turning pale as a candle-end--suddenly he'd be gone.

Ne me quitte pas

 
 Don’t leave me now
We must just forget
All we can forget
All we did till now
Let’s forget the cost
Of the breath we’ve spent
Saying words unmeant
And the times we’ve lost
Hours that must destroy
Never knowing why
Everything must die
At the heart of joy

 
 Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
I’ll bring back to you

 
 The clear pearls of rain
From a distant domain
Where rain never fell
And though I grow old
I’ll keep mining the ground
To deck you around
In sunlight and gold
I’ll build you a desmene
Where love’s everything
Where love is the king
And you are the queen

 
 Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now

 
 For you I’ll invent
Words and what they meant
Only you will know
Tales of lovers who
Fell apart and then
Fell in love again
Since their hearts stayed true
There’s a story too
That I can confide
Of that king who died
From not meeting you

 
 Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now

 
 And often it’s true
That flames spill anew
From ancient volcanos
We thought were too old
When all’s said and done
Scorched fields of defeat
Could give us more wheat
Than the fine April sun
And when evening is nigh
With flames overhead
The black and the red
Aren’t they joined in the sky?

 
 Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now

 
 I will cry no more
I will talk no more
Hide myself somehow
And I’ll see your smile
And I’ll see you dance
And I’ll hear you sing
Hear your laughter ring
Let me be for you
The shadow of your shadow
The shadow of your hand
The dog at your command

 
 
Don’t leave me now

Don’t leave me now

Don’t leave me now

Ne me quitte pas
Il faut oublier
Tout peut s'oublier
Qui s'enfuit déjà
Oublier le temps
Des malentendus
Et le temps perdu
A savoir comment 
Oublier ces heures
Qui tuaient parfois
A coups de pourquoi
Le coeur du bonheur

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

 
 Moi je t'offrirai
Des perles de pluie
Venues de pays
Oþ il ne pleut pas
Je creuserai la terre
Jusqu'après ma mort
Pour couvrir ton corps
D'or et de lumière
Je ferai un domaine
Oþ l'amour sera roi
Oþ l'amour sera loi
Oþ tu seras reine

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

 
 Je t'inventerai
Des mots insensés
Que tu comprendras
Je te parlerai
De ces amants-là
Qui ont vu deux fois
Leurs coeurs s'embraser
Je te raconterai
L'histoire de ce roi
Mort de n'avoir pas
Pu te rencontrer

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

 
 On a vu souvent
Rejaillir le feu
De l'ancien volcan
Qu'on croyait trop vieux
Il est para¡±t-il
Des terres brulées
Donnant plus de blé
Qu'un meilleur avril
Et quand vient le soir
Pour qu'un ciel flamboie
Le rouge et le noir
Ne s'épousent-ils pas

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Je ne vais plus pleurer
Je ne vais plus parler
Je me cacherai là
A te regarder
Danser et sourire
Et à t'écouter
Chanter et puis rire
Laisse-moi devenir
L'ombre de ton ombre
L'ombre de ta main
L'ombre de ton chien

 
 Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

processing.org is cool

Processing is an open source programming language and environment for people who want to program images, animation, and interactions. It is used by students, artists, designers, researchers, and hobbyists for learning, prototyping, and production. It is created to teach fundamentals of computer programming within a visual context and to serve as a software sketchbook and professional production tool. Processing is developed by artists and designers as an alternative to proprietary software tools in the same domain.

Processing is free to download and available for GNU/Linux, Mac OS X, and Windows. Please help to release the next version!

Processing is an open project initiated by Ben Fry and Casey Reas. It evolved from ideas explored in the Aesthetics and Computation Group at the MIT Media Lab.