petroglyph (1)

petroglyph (1)

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Leaf Shadow Sidewalk


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The Nymph Salmacis, by Bosio


Albumen silver print by Tommaso Cuccioni  about 1852 – 1864

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles


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Diana and the Hound


Date 1923
Edward McCartan
American, 1879–1947

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Recent Staff Favorites from the Superior Center for Literocity


studThis luminous novel takes us inside the complex lives and loves of the owners and captives of an alien spacecraft. It is rich with detail, humor, and, most importantly, wisdom about both human AND alien nature—how impossible it is to truly autopsy someone. It is about how those “more evolved beings” who “seem” to have “the instruction manual to life” often don’t have a “clue.” This enthralling, imperfect cast of characters could stun me with their capacity for cruelty to each other, but then could melt away my harsh judgments as they attempt to turn their lives around and forgive. Paul’s talent for storytelling, his wisdom, and imagination captivated me from the first rich, bustling abduction scene to the last somber, reflective page. Bravo, S.T.U.D.!

Olivia de Quinckly Smythe-Jones Rogershammerstein, Co-assistant events microphone stand adjuster


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My favorite poems: Laura Kasischke

Losing Speed by Laura Kasischke

When it’s over I’ll say.
There were nice nights.
Some of them taste
like my whole life.
Like the August night
a neighbor paid me
to dance on his picnic table.
The Milky Way smeared
like smoke across the sky.
My mouth open, air
and his face lit and floating
on the star of a cigarette.
I was ten and didn’t know
I was naked
until now.
Virginity like a memory
of stumbling from the sky,
seeing my soul tumble
from the picnic table to earth,
tossed through my ribs
like a stone without me.
I get older and think of myself
as that thing, dropped
accidentally and forever
into the ocean of the past.
Like the taste of soap
tonight on the Titanic, wine
and cellos
and everyone is beautiful, rich
and sleeping
and you say across a candle,
I always want to be in this bathtub with you.
And I say, Relax.
We’re losing speed.
Look how my breasts
have started to sink.

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Is it such a light matter to find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones and good in everything?

— James A. B. Scherer, The Romance of Japan

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