Douglas Dunn, 'Empty Wardrobes', from Elegies (1985) / Joan Didion's copy of Elegies / Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking (2005)
Elegies was written by Dunn after the death of his wife in March 1981. The Year of Magical Thinking was written by Didion after the death of her husband in December 2003.
Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because...
To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray...
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why...
Busy old fool, unruly sun,
For God’s sake hold your tongue and let me love.
After her stroke, hers was the first to go.
It sat for two years in their garage, though,
All through the months of her recovery,
Though that was far from full. Vocabulary
Re-emerged, but slowly. So he retired
A few years earlier than anticipated.
He couldn’t leave it all to the nurse he’d hired;
She said he shouldn’t, but that’s what he did.
‘Please, sell my car. I’ll never drive again.’
It seemed as final as a sung Amen.
He knew it must happen, but didn’t know when.
When he opened her glove compartment
He found small change, lip salve, tissues, receipts
From shops and filling stations, peppermint,
An ice-scraper, lipstick, and boiled sweets,
Two tickets for a play at Dundee Rep
(Unused), all sorts of trivial stuff.
He shoved them in a bag. Sat back and wept.
There’s love in the world. But never enough.
Sandro Ricaldone
TERRITORIES OF WASTEOn the Return of the RepressedMuseum Tinguely – BaselSeptember 14, 2022–January 8, 2023Artists: Arman, Helène Aylon, Lothar Baumgarten, Anca Benera & Arnold Estefán, Joseph Beuys, Rudy Burckhardt, Carolina Caycedo, Revital Cohen & Tuur Van Balen, Julien Creuzet, Agnes Denes, Douglas Dunn, Julian Aaron Flavin, Nicolás García Uriburu, Hans Haacke, Eric Hattan,…
trust guys i will be fhrposting again.. hockey has just got me SO ILL!!!!
for now here's some personal stuff i've been doing (ocs and all that!!) 💗💘💖
Hockey gal in color is an oc - Lane Porter! (She's changed jerseys since the last pic i've posted here) Woodmansee folks are from the same universe as Lane. Hayley plays RD, ellis plays LD. Harmon Hellraisers character also another oc (Leslie Douglas). She's a goalie!
Cowgirls in b&w are some d&d npcs i'm fooling around with. Left to right: Sally Lansing, Leith Armstrong, Clare Duffy.
annnf finally girl in the white hat is Frances sullivan... I think i've posted her before alongside some fhr stuff..
"No, don't stop writing your grievous poetry.
It will do you good, this work of your grief.
Keep writing until there is nothing left.
It will take time, and the years will go by."
Ours was a gentle generation, pacific,
In love with music, art and restaurants,
And he with she, strolling among the canvases,
And she with him, at concerts, coats on their laps.
Almost all of us were shy when we were young.
No friend of ours had ever been to war.
So many telephone numbers, remembered addresses;
So many things to remember.
The red sun hangs in a black tree, a moist
Exploded zero, bleeding into the trees
Praying from the earth upward, a psalm
In wood and light, in sky, earth and water.
These bars of birdsong come from another world;
They ring in the air like little doorbells.
They go by quickly, our best florescent selves
As good as summer and in love with being.
Reality, I remember you as her soft kiss
At morning. You were her presence beside me.
The red sun drips its molten dusk. Wet fires
Embrace the barren orchards, these gardens in
A city of cold slumbers. I am trapped in it.
It is December. The town is part of my mourning
And I, too, am part of whatever it grieves for.
Whose tears are these, pooled on this cellophane?
A dozen sparrows scuttled on the frost.
We watched them play. We stood at the window,
And, if you saw us, then you saw a ghost
In duplicate. I tied her nightgown’s bow.
She watched and recognized the passers-by.
Had they looked up, they’d know that she was ill-
“Please, do not draw the curtains when I die”-
From all the flowers on the windowsill.
“It’s such a shame,” she said. “Too ill, too quick.”
“I would have liked us to have gone away.”
We closed our eyes together, dreaming France,
Its meadows, rivers, woods and jouissance.
I counted summers, our love’s arithmetic.
“Some other day, my love. Some other day.”