Month: January 2025

Friday Poem-Donald Justice

/ chr1 / Leave a comment

‘There is a gold light in certain old paintings’

There is a gold light in certain old paintings
That represents a diffusion of sunlight.
It is like happiness, when we are happy.
It comes from everywhere and from nowhere at once, this light,
            And the poor soldiers sprawled at the foot of the cross
            Share in its charity equally with the cross.

Orpheus hesitated beside the black river.
With so much to look forward to he looked back.
We think he sang then, but the song is lost.
At  least he had seen once more the  beloved back.
              I say the song went this way: O prolong
             Now the sorrow if that is all there is to prolong.

The world is very dusty, uncle. Let us work.
One day the sickness shall pass from the earth for good.
The orchard will bloom; someone will play the guitar.
Our work will be seen as strong and clean and good.
              And all that we suffered through having existed
              Shall be forgotten as though it had never existed.

–Donald Justice

Repost-A Link To ‘Night Shadows’ By Edward Hopper, A Poem By Robert Frost & Some Images

/ chr1 / Leave a comment

Night Shadows by Edward Hopper.

The black and white was made in 1924, and is probably most evocative of noir.

I think Raymond Chandler’s High Window is the best of the detective novel.

Here are some quotations of his, if you’re interested.

“Los Angeles was just a big dry sunny place with ugly homes and no style, but good-hearted and peaceful. It had the climate they yap about now. People used to sleep out on porches. Little groups who thought they were intellectual used to call it the Athens of America.”

Here is the link.   It’s been a long time since they just reviewed the book and not the author.

The poem that most came to mind:

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

–Robert Frost

Sunday Poem-Richard Wilbur

/ chr1 / Leave a comment

First Snow In Alsace

The snow came down last night like moths
Burned on the moon; it fell till dawn,
Covered the town with simple cloths.

Absolute snow lies rumpled on
What shellbursts scattered and deranged,
Entangled railings, crevassed lawn.

As if it did not know they’d changed,
Snow smoothly clasps the roofs of homes
Fear-gutted, trustless and estranged.

The ration stacks are milky domes;
Across the ammunition pile
The snow has climbed in sparkling combs.

You think: beyond the town a mile
Or two, this snowfall fills the eyes
Of soldiers dead a little while.

Persons and persons in disguise,
Walking the new air white and fine,
Trade glances quick with shared surprise.

At children’s windows, heaped, benign,
As always, winter shines the most,
And frost makes marvelous designs.

The night guard coming from his post,
Ten first-snows back in thought, walks slow
And warms him with a boyish boast:

He was the first to see the snow.

–Richard Wilbur

Seattle Photo-The King Of Pulp Fiction & She’s A Good Girl, Apple Pie, 4th Of July…

/ chr1 / Leave a comment

If you were a kid at the right time, you caught snatches of detective shows on T.V; maybe without having ever watched a full episode.

Columbo seemed rumpled but classy, deceptively ensnaring his prey. Magnum P.I. drove a Ferrari and had a friend with a helicopter. Matlock was clearly for the Olds.

One night, we caught an episode of Stacy Keach as Mike Hammer. The intro screen advertised ‘Mickey Spillane’s’ Mike Hammer.‘

Intrigued by a rumor filtered down from the adults, my brother grabbed a phone book. Mickey Spillane’s listed. He lives nearby.

‘It’s ringing.‘ He says.

‘Mr Spillane? I just wanted to say we’re here watching Mike Hammer and we’re nearby and we really like it.’

‘Yes.‘ my brother says. ‘Sure.’

‘Thank you Mr. Spillane.‘

—

The photo below reminds me of a poster for a knock-off T.V. detective.

I’m strolling by and see a single shaft of weak light falling though a Pioneer square bar. It’s falling right on this gentleman on the corner seat. He sees me seeing him.

Should I take the shot?

I raise my camera and start snapping away as I walk towards the entrance (me and God/the Gods are working this behavior out).

—

There’s absolutely nothing funny about Telly Savalas playing Kojak as reported by Norm MacDonald to Jerry Seinfeld, shattering naive fictions in solving a T.V. crime-drama: