It’s Raining | A poem by Guillaume Apollinaire, 1916
Guillaume Apollinaire, Il Pleut, Calligrammes, 1916 its raining womens voices as if they were dead even in memoryits raining you...
Guillaume Apollinaire, Il Pleut, Calligrammes, 1916 its raining womens voices as if they were dead even in memoryits raining you...
Edward Mitchell Bannister, Newspaper Boy, 1869 So early it’s still almost dark out.I’m near the window with coffee,and the usual...
Dorothea Lange. Road on the Great Plains. 1941 5From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,Going...
Samia Halaby, Untitled (from the Dome of the Rock series), 1981 If you are not rain, my loveBe treeSated with...
Jack Tworkov, Idling, 1969 Our lady of Useless Tears,Thine is my heart's best shrine.I am sick with the gorging years,I...
Derrick Greaves, Black Bird / Red Beak, 2008 IAmong twenty snowy mountains,The only moving thingWas the eye of the blackbird....
Forman Hanna, Canyon Nymph, 1920 I like the way youbent over naked, fleshcafé au lait in the moonlightthrough the bay...
Henry Scott Tuke, August Blue, 1893-4 A Little marsh-plant, yellow green,And pricked at lip with tender red.Tread close, and either...
Edvard Munch, Eye in Eye, 1894 "Sound loves to revel in a summer night:Witness the murmur of the gray twilightThat...
Leonor Fini, The Passenger, 1964 I want to visit the rosesIn that lonelyPark where the statues remember me youngAnd I...