DEJUNA BARNES: Avante Garde Diva!

 American write who played an important part in the development of 20th century english language modernist writing and was one of the key figures in 1920s and 30s bohemian Pars after filling a similar role in the Greenwich Villge of the teens. Her novel Nightwood became a cult work of modern fiction, helped by an introduction by T.S. Elliot It stands out today for its portrayal of lesbian themes and its distinctive writing style. Since Barnes's death, interest in her work has grown and many of her books are back in print.

SEEN FROM THE "L"

SO SHE stands—nude—stretching dully
Two amber combs loll through her hair
A vague molested carpet pitches
Down the dusty length of stair.
She does not see, she does not care
It’s always there.

The frail mosaic on her window
Facing starkly toward the street
Is scribbled there by tipsy sparrows—
Etched there with their rocking feet.
Is fashioned too, by every beat
  Of shirt and sheet.

Sill her clothing is less risky
Than her body in its prime,
They are chain-stitched and so is she
Chain-stitched to her soul for time.
Ravelling grandly into vice
Dropping crooked into rhyme.
Slipping through the stitch of virtue,
       Into crime.

Though her lips are vague as fancy
In her youth—
They bloom vivid and repulsive
As the truth.
Even vases in the making
    Are uncouth.

*We love this literary diva! She was different and very much did her literary thing. Give props to the avante-garde diva her self; "Djuna Barnes!*

xoxo$^$
Literary Barbie

William Faulkner And Mina Loy's Love Child!

If William Faulkner And Mina Loy gave birth to a poem what would it be like? Do you think it would be poetic or poetically dysfunctional?



















We believe it would be both as both poets were very eclectic in nature and bithed amazing poetry by themselves.

Here's what we think their love child would be read like: Here's two poems interwined by two amazing poets with two differient styles.

Get your read on with "Sappics And Gertrude Stein"; now known as "Sappics of Gertrude Stein."

So it is: sleep comes not on my eyelids.

Nor in my eyes, with shaken hair and white

Aloof pale hands, and lips and breasts of iron,

So she beholds me.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*

And yet though sleep comes not to me, there comes

A vision from the full smooth brow of sleep,

The white Aphrodite moving unbounded

   By her own hair.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*

In the purple beaks of the doves that draw her,

Beaks straight without desire, necks bent backward

Toward Lesbos and the flying feet of Loves

   Weeping behind her.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*
She looks not back, she looks not back to where

The nine crowned muses about Apollo

Stand like nine Corinthian columns singing

   In clear evening.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*

She sees not the Lesbians kissing mouth

To mouth across lute strings, drunken with singing,

Nor the white feet of the Oceanides

   Shining and unsandalled.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*
Before her go cryings and lamentations

Of barren women, a thunder of wings,

While ghosts of outcast Lethean women, lamenting,

   Stiffen the twilight.

*Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word*

  











xoxo$^$
Literary Barbie