VRZHU bullets of pure love

Meet Duffy

Since it's YouTube posting Saturday (well, okay, Sunday now I just realized), I wanted to share a video by Duffy, the Welsh singer/songwriter who's album, Rockferry, has been a huge hit in the UK and is now landing on our shores. She's Dusty Springfield with a little Lulu thrown in and a whole heapin' help of Motown and what the Brits call Northern Soul. This album has been on constant rotation at my apartment while I've been writing and editing some new work. The lush, wall-of-sound warps you back to 1965 in an instant, yet it's modern at the same time. This song is Warwick Avenue (named for one of the Underground stations in London) and this simple, elegant video is brilliant.

Saturday morning Vrzhoon funhouse

Three simplicities. 1. Keren Ann: Lay Your Head Down. 2. Leo Kottke: Louise. 3. Kaki King: Playing with Pink Noise.

Vrzhu Press

Just a reminder that Vrzhu Bullets of Love Blog -- the blog that picks you up as it calms you down -- is a support mechanism for our Vrzhu Press. 

We currently have two books and two more coming this summer. 

Vrzhu Press -- because Vrzhu is pronounced "Ver-zhoo."

May 11, 330 CE: Byzantium becomes capital of Roman Empire

Sailing to Byzantium
William Butler Yeats

THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Ednafication

A few weeks back we posted the idea of commemorating Spring and the iconic photograph of Edna St. Vincent Millay in a blooming tree.  Seemed like a zany but noble idea to bring poets together to recreate this charming image.

We are happy to report that the two Saturday photo sessions at the magnificent Brookland Dogwood tree was a rousing success.

A great number of poets and writers showed up both days and took their Millayesque portraits.  On the fine suggestion of Kim Roberts folks brought picnic items last Saturday and a great little Spring soiree took place under treeshade. 

Appropriately, Terrance Mulligan and Martha Sanchez-Lowery brought some of Millay's poems to be read aloud.  Terry read Millay's poem about Spring (titled "Spring") which clearly shows the bard of Camden, Maine wasn't that crazy about the season.

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

We also passed Millay's long poem "Renascence" that got her started as a young teenaged writer.  We took turns reading passages aloud under the shade of a nice pine tree adjoining the dogwood. It was an amazing afternoon.

Of course the whole purpose was to take our Ednaesque portraits and we did do that.  To see the portraits and see a list of participating Ednas, please visit the Project Millay page on the main VRZHU Press site at www.vrzhu.com/edna.html

We'd love to receive feedback.  Maybe we can make this an annual event.  Perhaps we can start a tradition for poets to recreate around the country.  Perchance the world.  Any excuse for a picnic, eh?

Leave a comment for the Ednas.