The mailman sent piecemeal a rare donkey
to the city of waters; to the city of waters
a rare donkey was sent, swaddled
And it came to pass that the waters
were troubled. Woe
in the great city.
Nothing is more beautiful than to admit
the truth, or more difficult.
The head & tail & all that is in between.
When piecemeal the beast was sent,
the engineers knew their place.
For if disassembled like a boat
the rare donkey could be
But to separate the members of a li…
Christina Pettersson got a taste of art school from a summer program when she was in high school. (Photo courtesy of Petterson)
By Daniel Grant
For many high-school students, college is a given and the main question is what kind to attend—large, small, public, private, near, far. Teens with an aptitude for art, however, must first decide between liberal-arts college and art school. They have to figure out how committed they are to developing their skills, how ready they are to make a life de…
In age, the world grows clumsy.
A heavy jar
leaps from a cupboard.
A suitcase has corners.
Others have no explanation.
Old love, old body,
do you remember—
carpet burns down the spine,
the knees, hardness to hardness.
You who knew yourself
kissed by the bit of the ant,
you who were kissed by the bite of the spider.
Now kissed by this.
Stay, I said
to the cut flowers.
their heads lower.
Stay, I said to the spider,
By Elise Blackwell
This summer I was on the faculty of the Squaw Valley Community of Writers. Years ago, I had a terrific experience there as a participant. It was founded by a beloved professor (Oakley Hall), and the conference continues to be run by the noble Hall family together with other people I greatly like and admire. I should have been looking forward to the trip, but realized I was instead dreading it.
Trying to discern why, I recalled conference complaints I’d heard from others, ran…
They call it a lazy breeze.
Under its slow grope,
trees drop their favorite work.
And pigeons, their pigeon
droppings, and the bleach
that I drop on the porch
because my son might lick one
and die. Because autumn
is sweet on war
and winter is bitter peace,
because the river chased Achilles
for butchering too much—
breeze like a laid-back doctor,
the soul is dense
when you come so late.
Would that he caressed us
On the road made of feathers
of our loved ones.
Laszlo Z. Bito (photograph from Wikimedia)
The Bard College Conservatory of Music has received a $9.2-million gift from Bard alumnus László Z. Bitó, class of 1960, for the construction of The László Z. Bitó ’60 Conservatory Building.
This building will help satisfy the growing needs of the conservatory, which has grown fivefold growth since its founding in 2005. With an anticipated completion date of January 2013, The project is scheduled to begin construction in next month and to be completed…
The Harn Museum of Art at the University of Florida has announced that it will open its new Asian art wing on March 31, 2012. The Cofrin Asian Art Wing, designed by UF alumnus Kha Le-Huu, is a 26,000-square-foot addition dedicated to the art of China, Japan, Korea, India, and the Himalayas from the Neolithic period to the present. The adaptable gallery spaces in the new wing will allow for a frequently rotating permanent collection, allowing the museum to highlight many more of the 2,000 wor…
Kris Bowers bows to the audience after performing in the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Piano Competition. He took home first prize. (Brendan Hoffman/WireImage–Photo at NPR.org)
Juilliard pianist Kris Bowers, a second-year master of music degree student in the Juilliard Jazz program, has won the $25,000 first prize in the 2011 Thelonious Monk International Jazz Piano Competition, presented by the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz. Bowers has won a recording contract from Concord Music Group…
Don’t desert me
just because I stayed up last night
watching The Lost Weekend.
I know I’ve spent too much time
praising your naked body to strangers
and gossiping about lovers you betrayed.
I’ve stalked you in foreign cities
and followed your far-flung movements,
pretending I could describe you.
Forgive me for getting jacked on coffee
and obsessing over your features
year after jittery year.
I’m sorry for handing you a line
and typing you on a screen,
but don’t let me suffer in silence.
By Charles O’Connor
“So what’s your major?”
Ask that question on an average campus, and less than 1 in 10 students will answer something like music, art, theater, dance, film, design, or creative writing. And if they do, the usual reply is, “Hmm … that’s nice,” or “That sounds, um, fun.”
Let’s face it, the ranking of the academic species according to the most popular undergraduate majors goes something like this: business management, business marketing, education, the social sciences, t…