The Marchesa, Again a Muse
my eyes fall to alabaster skin then lift to fiery hair survey her body, long and thin meet, avert, unflinching stare Lorette C. Luzajic
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Still Life With Apples
the mango is bruised against the velvet cheek of peach; the banana's golden skin is marred by supermarket fingers. the oranges, round and bright next to the lone, last apple its chin tilted firmly, an invitation. i am closer to these organic textures, softening with time than to yours, so far across the country of our table. Lorette C. Luzajic Hello, world!
Welcome to your Ekphrastic e-zine. It's new and I know it will take some time to build content and get out there. But if you love art and writing, you're in the right place and I hope you'll keep coming back. Please tell your friends about us! Simply sharing on your facebook page is great. Even better, why not submit your art inspired writing or your writing inspired art? Check out the Submissions tab in the top right corner for details. I will be posting art writing prompts as well and I hope you'll take the challenge and have fun with them. The Starry Night That does not keep me from having a terrible need of—shall I say the word—religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars. Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother The town does not exist except where one black-haired tree slips up like a drowned woman into the hot sky. The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die. It moves. They are all alive. Even the moon bulges in its orange irons to push children, like a god, from its eye. The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die: into that rushing beast of the night, sucked up by that great dragon, to split from my life with no flag, no belly, no cry. Anne Sexton Some awesome kindergarteners did these masterpieces, inspired by Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! by Mo Willems.
Love this Mona Lisa Byzantine inspired dress at Purple Fish Bowl.
Art In placid hours well-pleased we dream Of many a brave unbodied scheme. But form to lend, pulsed life create, What unlike things must meet and mate: A flame to melt—a wind to freeze; Sad patience—joyous energies; Humility—yet pride and scorn; Instinct and study; love and hate; Audacity—reverence. These must mate, And fuse with Jacob’s mystic heart, To wrestle with the angel—Art. Herman Melville Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (The Library of America, 1993) |
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April 2024
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