Our reading for the midterm:
See the original artwork that started the whole thing here
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Mysteries
Unsolved death of Jack Davis Jr. (http://www.unsolved.com/unexplained.html)
Mr. FixIt (http://www.mysterynet.com/twist/)
Mr. FixIt (http://www.mysterynet.com/twist/)
Mysteries
http://all-that-is-interesting.com/the-five-greatest-mysteries-of-human-history
Both of the mysteries I chose are from the same website. The first one is on page 1 the pertains to the bog people and how their bodies are preserved. The second mystery is on page 2 that deals with the true mystery of Jack The Ripper.
Both of the mysteries I chose are from the same website. The first one is on page 1 the pertains to the bog people and how their bodies are preserved. The second mystery is on page 2 that deals with the true mystery of Jack The Ripper.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Riemann and Bigfoot
http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com/viewarticle.php?id=14
Bigfoot: real or fake?
http://www.claymath.org/millennium/Riemann_Hypothesis/
Riemann Hypothesis
Bigfoot: real or fake?
http://www.claymath.org/millennium/Riemann_Hypothesis/
Riemann Hypothesis
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
The Heretics of Cloud Gazing
Numbered Poems
1.
I came to the forest and there was no path to its heart.
With tools and fury I clove my way.
When I reached it, it was a clearing whose ring of trees
I had fallen.
I came to the river and marveled at the torrents.
I swam its depths and by boat found its source.
It trickled from rocks and from the forest
seeped unnoticed.
Disconsolate, I questioned the weeping of my heart.
I searched with wonder and abandon.
I found only desolation and the clamour of worry
in the place of strength.
2.
A prayer floats on the water
and does not know the storm.
It slips gently beneath waves
both enticing and loving.
Acceptance sees and kisses
myself, the coming rain.
3.
Frost on bare branches
of sleeping trees.
Weep for winter skeleton’s shadow
torn into fallen snow.
Thoughts fall past,
tumble in drifts.
Sun peels back empty clouds;
their all is given, settled now, wounded.
Reflections of frozen glass,
winter calls lonesome and sun responds:
“You will not know joy until winter streams
and living parts thighs over fertile ground.”
Holy are the hopes we have,
holy as another dawn.
4.
Wild and cooing on the broken leaves,
spring’s back offers
summer’s hands and mouth
a place to lie and wait
for more important reasons
to fall asleep and remember
that time is the song of our hearts
and sex is the spell of our longing.
5.
Naked over the mossed rocks and river bottoms,
naked beneath wild mulberry and plum.
The universe waits for all men to break,
to hope, to desire, to pray, to fuck, to be alive.
Naked through the sage and warm sands,
naked under the pine and oak and sunlight.
Orange peels by my feet,
a restless spirit.
6.
silence
taking
breath
from
skirts
of
winter
snow.
drawn
fragments:
east
west
earth
shadow.
tender
skin
and
make-
believe.
hopeless.
buried
image.
I came to the forest and there was no path to its heart.
With tools and fury I clove my way.
When I reached it, it was a clearing whose ring of trees
I had fallen.
I came to the river and marveled at the torrents.
I swam its depths and by boat found its source.
It trickled from rocks and from the forest
seeped unnoticed.
Disconsolate, I questioned the weeping of my heart.
I searched with wonder and abandon.
I found only desolation and the clamour of worry
in the place of strength.
2.
A prayer floats on the water
and does not know the storm.
It slips gently beneath waves
both enticing and loving.
Acceptance sees and kisses
myself, the coming rain.
3.
Frost on bare branches
of sleeping trees.
Weep for winter skeleton’s shadow
torn into fallen snow.
Thoughts fall past,
tumble in drifts.
Sun peels back empty clouds;
their all is given, settled now, wounded.
Reflections of frozen glass,
winter calls lonesome and sun responds:
“You will not know joy until winter streams
and living parts thighs over fertile ground.”
Holy are the hopes we have,
holy as another dawn.
4.
Wild and cooing on the broken leaves,
spring’s back offers
summer’s hands and mouth
a place to lie and wait
for more important reasons
to fall asleep and remember
that time is the song of our hearts
and sex is the spell of our longing.
5.
Naked over the mossed rocks and river bottoms,
naked beneath wild mulberry and plum.
The universe waits for all men to break,
to hope, to desire, to pray, to fuck, to be alive.
Naked through the sage and warm sands,
naked under the pine and oak and sunlight.
Orange peels by my feet,
a restless spirit.
6.
silence
taking
breath
from
skirts
of
winter
snow.
drawn
fragments:
east
west
earth
shadow.
tender
skin
and
make-
believe.
hopeless.
buried
image.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
"The Bells" by Edgar Allan Poe
This poem has specific sections, where the tone completely changes with each one:
"The Bells" by Edgar Allan Poe
"The Bells" by Edgar Allan Poe
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