Writing Spaces

I miss setting poems by hand and printing them on the letterpress late at night, frog song outside the open spring windows.

I miss "what the ink sings to the paper"—evokative words I found this week at the exhibition on five fine California printers at Stanford's Cantor Arts Center.

image:  Set Type

Writing Spaces

One of Joseph Cornell's intriguing and mysterious boxes, combining words and images and found objects, and telling a story of—what?  Romance and back alleys, I think, and up the crooked stairway of a damp colonial hotel, an absent-minded ornithographer.

image:  untitled (Paul and Virginia), Joseph Cornell, WebMuseum, Paris

Under the Weather

In my Writing with Light blog of today I posted this initial list:

Feeling under the weather—

a squally infant

a cloudy adolescent

a rainy ex-lover

an icy old aunt

a thunderous History professor

a wind-swept hiker

a humid trombonist

I've subsequently added:

a muddy adventure writer
a dust-deviled librarian
a foggy divorcée
a drizzly hypochondriac

and Liza further adds:

A wintery colloquium
Two, or perhaps three, stormy lovers
A gusty French horn player
A sun baked sleuth
A tropical transcendentalist
A sodden sonambulist

image:  A Squall, James Gillray