Arts+Culture

Arts+Culture

We Are the Eighth Day, © Melanie Weidner

Poetry

What the angel said

          For Fra Angelico

He spoke to you in blue, in the long call
of light from the top of a Tuscan hill.
Your hand answered, the quick sketch of a girl
taking shape before you knew she was you,
head uplifted, her angelful eyes
sure of what they see: being bodied true
as the stilled wings, the beatified sky.
What words might have passed have passed as air
sighed by the soul in the act of rapture.
Now there is only ochre and thin-skinned cream,
struck gold against the garden’s sudden green,
forever as present as it once seemed,
her hands crossed soft against her hidden fear
and angel’s breath still warm within your ear.

Poetry

Spring

It’s distracting, everything’s changing wherever I look;
an electric blue patch of squill nearly makes me crash,
and all the twigs are, suddenly, beaded with leaf buds,
while the yellowness of the willows is brightening hourly.
I park so I can watch, I jump out of the car
and dance along, I’m beaming like a lunatic,
and really, you’d think I’d be used to it by now,
I’ve seen it happening over fifty times
in many different places; I should know
that as soon as these words are written, they’ll be old;
the leaf buds will be emerald. You’d think
I’d give up trying to catch the delicate
insinuation of the air, which can’t be caught;
the words collapse, they tumble and mesh together
breezily interlaced in a tangle of green,
the yellow caravel entirely madrigal,
and every jonquil ravishment squeezed fresh.
Film

The Last Station

The Last Station is a complex but entertaining study of a 48-year marriage and the way subtle and extreme changes that take place in each partner can take a terrifying toll on the relationship.
Poetry

Olin Lake

Behind us, the channel half-clogged
by bullhead lilies slips back
into the smoke of yellow tamaracks
clouding the shore and we glide
on the silk of a dream so deep, herring
break the surface from eighty feet below.

I am this hand skimming the water.
I am these eyes dazzled by light.

I am you whom I loved
before the seas were parted.

I am in the creak of wood,
old harmony of oars.





Film

How to Train YourDragon

The first ever Academy Award for Best Picture was given in 1929 to Wings, a World War I aviation drama full of groundbreaking aerial sequences. People flocked to see the film largely because they longed to feel what it might be like to fly.