"True I have wept too much! Dawns are heartbreaking;
Cruel all moons and bitter the suns.
Drunk with love’s acrid torpors,
O let my keel burst! Let me go to the sea!"

[from] The Drunken Boat by Arthur Rimbaud

Josh Goot, Resort 2015

"Run in the shadows
Damn your love
Damn your lies
Break the silence
Damn the dark
Damn the light"

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

The Row, Resort 2015

"Arriving from always, you’ll go away everywhere."

[from] To a Reason by Arthur Rimbaud

Timo Weiland, Resort 2015

"Everything I’m not made me everything I am."

Kanye West

Preen Line, Resort 2015

Preen Line, Resort 2015

"Baby can’t you see
I’ve got to break free."


Preen by Thornton Bregazzi, Resort 2015

At Dante’s Tomb


Florence was my stepmother,
But I came to rest in Ravenna,
Passer-by, speak not of betrayal,
Let death seal such events.
Above my white-washed tomb
A pigeon coos, sweet bird,
I dream only of my city,
To her alone keep my word.
Songs played with a broken lute
Sound different on foreign trips,
Tuscany, my sorrow,
Why kiss my orphaned lips.
The pigeon flees from my roof-top,
Fearing something in the sky,
An evil shadow of enemy wings
Circles above where I lie.
Sound the alarm, bell-ringer!
Remember, the world still foams with blood!
I came to rest in Ravenna,
But I’ll find no peace in this mud.
by Nikolai Zabolotsky

Elizabeth and James, Resort 2015

About My Myself

No, I didn’t lost the beauty, but in whole,            
I’m put to shame to see it by my eyes,
By eyes of men – else more, for my soul
Will not agree with their offensive prize.

- And so I live, hiding my heart, divine, Into the breast of a low, nasty rebel … D’ you see a spider on the green blade, fine, And on its back – the cruciform black label?

- A little child will run away from it, And in a heist, you ever try to hit – By squeamish hands – it off your neck of fairy.

- It runs away of your unbound wrath, Ashamed and known not what means the cross, It always bears on his back so hairy.


by Vladislav Khodasevich

Ellery, Resort 2015

[from] Thank God!

I’m one who always speaks and hopes.

He only super-wisely sings,

Who, before God, like angel, goes;

Or brute, not knowing God in sins:


by Vladislav Khodasevich