Something is askew in the universe today, and this is one of my all-time favorite poems

The Emperor of Ice Cream

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

--Wallace Stevens

Brussels in Winter

Wandering through cold streets tangled like old string,
Coming on fountains rigid in the frost,
Its formula escapes you; it has lost
The certainty that constitutes a thing.

Only the old, the hungry and the humbled
Keep at this temperature a sense of place,
And in their misery are all assembled;
The winter holds them like an Opera-House.

Ridges of rich apartments loom to-night
Where isolated windows glow like farms,
A phrase goes packed with meaning like a van,

A look contains the history of man,
And fifty francs will earn a stranger right
To take the shuddering city in his arms.

--W.H. Auden

recent additions to my photo stash

I'm really entertained by

the way that pigeons walk. There's a mechanism that connects their legs to their jelly necks, so if they try to walk faster they have to bob their heads frantically.

"The pigeon mechanism."

If I have a chance today, maybe I'll draw what a pigeon's insides must look like.

YES

In which I splurge on the perfect pair of boots.

black classic

Today's entry on the list of things I don't want:

A tonsillectomy.