Tuesday, December 25, 2012

TC: James Schuyler: December


.


http://memory.loc.gov/service/pnp/fsa/8a34000/8a34900/8a34929v.jpg

Hanging Christmas decorations in Providence, Rhode island: photo by Jack Delano, December 1940
 


........................................................................Il va neiger dans quelques jours

........................................................................FRANCIS JAMMES


The giant Norway spruce from Podunk, its lower branches bound,
this morning was reared into place at Rockefeller Center.
I thought I saw a cold blue dusty light sough in its boughs
the way other years the wind thrashing at the giant ornaments
recalled other years and Christmas trees more homey.
Each December! I always think I hate “the over-commercialized event”
and then bells ring, or tiny light bulbs wink above the entrance
to Bonwit Teller or Katherine going on five wants to look at all
the empty sample gift-wrapped boxes up Fifth Avenue in swank shops
and how can I help falling in love? A calm secret exultation
of the spirit that tastes like Sealtest eggnog, made from milk solids,
Vanillin, artificial rum flavoring; a milky impulse to kiss and be friends
It’s like what George and I were talking about, the East West
Coast divide: Californians need to do a thing to enjoy it.
A smile in the street may be loads! you don’t have to undress everybody.
..................................“You didn’t visit the Alps?”
..................................“No, but I saw from the train they were black
..................................and streaked with snow.”
Having and giving but also catching glimpses
hints that are revelations: to have been so happy is a promise
and if it isn’t kept that doesn’t matter. It may snow
falling softly on lashes of eyes you love and a cold cheek
grow warm next to your own in hushed dark familial December.


James Schuyler: December, from May 24th or So, 1966




http://memory.loc.gov/service/pnp/cph/3c30000/3c30000/3c30600/3c30627v.jpg

Ice skating in Rockefeller Center, New York, New York
: photo by John Collier, December 1941

Thursday, December 20, 2012

TC: That time of year


.


Boy beside store window display of Christmas ornaments: photographer unknown [Jack Delano?], December 1941 (Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Collection, Library of Congress)



Delmore Schwartz: The Winter Twilight, Glowing Black and Gold



That time of year you may in me behold
When Christmas trees are blazing on the walk,
Raging amid stale snow against the cold
And low sky's bundled wash, senseless as chalk.
Hissing and ravenous the brilliant plant,
Rising like eagerness, a rushing pyre
(As when the tutti bursts forth, and the chant
Soars up -- hurrahing! -- from the Easter choir).

But this is only true at four o'clock,
At noon the fifth year is once more abused,
I bring a distant girl apples and cake,
Pictures, secrets, lastly my swollen heart,
Now boxed and tied by what I know of art
-- But as before accepted and refused.



Delmore Schwartz: The Winter Twilight, Glowing Black and Gold, from Vaudeville for a Princess and Other Poems, 1950





http://memory.loc.gov/service/pnp/fsac/1a34000/1a34400/1a34414v.jpg

Boys looking at store window display of toys: photographer unknown [Jack Delano?], December 1941 (Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Collection, Library of Congress)



William Shakespeare: Sonnet 73: That time of yeeare thou maiſt in me behold




http://extra.shu.ac.uk/emls/Sonnets/e4r.jpg

William Shakespeare: Sonnet 73 (1609 quarto)




That time of yeeare thou maiſt in me behold,  
When yellow leaues, or none, or fewe doe hange  
Vpon thoſe boughes which ſhake againſt the could,  
Bare rn'wd quiers, where late the ſweet birds ſang.
In me thou ſeeſt the twi-light of ſuch day,  
As after Sun-ſet fadeth in the Weſt,  
Which by and by blacke night doth take away,  
Deaths ſecond ſelfe that ſeals vp all in reſt.
In me thou ſeeſt the glowing of ſuch fire,  
That on the aſhes of his youth doth lye,  
As the death bed, whereon it muſt expire,  
Conſum'd with that which it was nurriſht by.
   This thou perceu'ſt, which makes thy loue more ſtrong,
   To loue that well, which thou muſt leaue ere long.



 William Shakespeare: Sonnet 73: That time of yeeare thou maiſt in me behold, from 1609 Quarto




http://memory.loc.gov/service/pnp/fsac/1a34000/1a34400/1a34409v.jpg

Christmas trees and wreaths in store window display, photographer unknown [Jack Delano?], December 1941 (Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Collection, Library of Congress)



Shoppers walk through fake snow on Oxford Street during a traffic-free Christmas shopping day in central London: photo by Olivia Harris/Reuters, 24 November 2012

Sunday, December 9, 2012

TC: Waning Crescent Moon


.


http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/pnp/jpd/02000/02021v.jpg

Yumiharizuki (Bow-shaped moon), from Tsuki nijūhakkei no uchi: 28 views of the moon
: Hiroshige Ando (1797-1858), [185-, printed later] (H. Irving Olds Collection/Japanese Prints and Drawings, Library of Congress)






Later the light
spike heel hoof
click
of the California mule

Deer
cantering
up the middle
of Colusa

In deep night
under a waning

crescent
moon




http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/pnp/jpd/01400/01471v.jpg

Bird flying with faint crescent moon in background: artist unknown, between 1870 and 1920, from series of illustrated sheets (Japanese Fine Prints, Library of Congress)


http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/pnp/jpd/01400/01472v.jpg

Red sun surrounded by feathers above the ocean: artist unknown, between 1870 and 1920, from series of illustrated sheets (Japanese Fine Prints, Library of Congress)



The thin gold shaving of the moon floating slowly downwards had lost itself on the darkened surface of the waters, and the eternity beyond the sky seemed to come down nearer to the earth, with the augmented glitter of the stars, with the more profound sombreness in the lustre of the half-transparent dome covering the flat disc of an opaque sea.  The ship moved so smoothly that her onward motion was imperceptible to the senses of men, as though she had been a crowded planet speeding through dark spaces of ether behind the swarm of suns, in the appalling and calm solitudes awaiting the breath of future creations.
Joseph Conrad: Lord Jim, 1900