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Tim Bovee, Private Trader: The left brain side of my life.
mamabluefoot & the mountain
walderkinder: A Cascadian mom and biologist teaches her children about the marvels
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Bliss Fotography: Really cool photos from San Francisco
A Poet on a Magical Journey Home
Chronicles of a Sea Woman
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Project Gutenberg, a huge collection of books as text, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems.
Tina Blue's Beginner's Guide to Prosody, exactly what the title says, and well worth reading.
popomo.net, miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon.
pink.popomo.net, More projects from Portland
oarena.net, Furby, Eliza, Mr_Friss and Miss_Friss.
Save Point 0.8.1, a Portland, Oregon, exhibit, Aug. 13-Sept. 5, 2004, at Disjecta.
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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Jock O'Hazeldean, by Walter Scott
Child Ballad 293
Why weep ye by the tide, lady
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son
And ye shall be his bride
Sorrowful Slumber, by Melyssa A. Harmon
Full moon bright shines down to light
My tired shoulders, another night
Of endless toss and constant turn
In dreams my sorrowful heart does burn.
Need, like fury, deep it creeps
Something, by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
It is something in this darker dream demented
to have wrestled with its pleasure and its pain:
it is something to have sinned, and have repented:
it is something to have failed, and tried again!
It is something to have loved the brightest Beauty
Willie and Helen, by Hew Ainslie
'WHAREFORE sou'd ye talk o' love,
Unless it be to pain us?
Wharefore sou'd ye talk o' love
Whan ye say the sea maun twain us?'
'It 's no because my love is light,
On the Death of Sir Philip Sidney, by Henry Constable
GIVE pardon, blessed soul, to my bold cries,
If they, importune, interrupt thy song,
Which now with joyful notes thou sing'st among
The angel-quiristers of th' heavenly skies.
Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes,
I am in Love with High Far-Seeing Places, by Arthur Davison Ficke
I am in love with high far-seeing places
That look on plains half-sunlight and half-storm, --
In love with hours when from the circling faces
Veils pass, and laughing fellowship glows warm.
You who look on me with grave eyes where rapture
Spring, by John Gould Fletcher
At the first hour, it was as if one said, "Arise."
At the second hour, it was as if one said, "Go forth."
And the winter constellations that are like patient ox-eyes
Sank below the white horizon at the north.
At the third hour, it was as if one said, "I thirst";
The Bride, by Henry Alford
'RISE,' said the Master, 'come unto the feast.'
She heard the call and rose with willing feet;
But thinking it not otherwise than meet
For such a bidding to put on her best,
She is gone from us for a few short hours
Cards and Kisses, by John Lyly
CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses--Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
Why, by Bliss Carman
FOR a name unknown,
Whose fame unblown
Sleeps in the hills
For ever and aye;
For her who hears
When I am dead and Sister to the Dust, by Elsa Barker
When I am dead and sister to the dust;
When no more avidly I drink the wine
Of human love; when the pale Proserpine
Has covered me with poppies, and cold rust
Has cut my lyre-strings, and the sun has thrust
Graffiti, by Junior Burchall
nobody listens
to
us
so we scrawl
our troubled
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