(Quelque Parfum) - Rainer Maria Rilke - Malgré le ciel encore bas et cet air qui chancelle, quelque chose nouvelle flotte vers l’odorat. Quelque parfum tout vert discrètement se dégage. Un plaisir déménage: le printemps est ouvert. (Some Perfume) …
Entirely Green
May 5th, 2008 — , Green, Perfume, Poetry, evergreen, musings, poems, woods from Heather @ memory & desire
The Wake
April 28th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, flowers, iris, musings, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Iris - by David St. John - Vivian St. John (1981-1974) There is a train inside this iris: You think I’m crazy, & like to say boyish & outrageous things. No, there is A train inside this iris. It’s a child’s finger bearded in black banners. A single win…
Nothing in Hand
April 21st, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, flowers, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
“Keep me fully glad…” - by Rabindranath Tagore - Keep me fully glad with nothing. Only take my hand in your hand. In the gloom of the deepening night take up my heart and play with it as you list. Bind me close to you with nothing. I will spread myse…
Extraordinary NYC: Odds and Ends
April 13th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, book reports, city, musings, poems, travels from Heather @ memory & desire
Public Transportation - by Elaine Sexton - She is perfectly ordinary, a cashmere scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. She is a middle age that is crisp, appealing in New York. She is a brain surgeon or a designer of blowdryers. I know this because I a…
Perfuming Literature: Interview with Christophe Laudamiel
April 6th, 2008 — , Interviews, Poetry, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, perrfume, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Christophe Laudamiel defies categorization. He is one of the most sought-after perfumers working today, but he is also an inventor, chemist, artist, educator, and fearless pursuer of his own ideals. I first became aware of his name in November 2006 whe…
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End Note: Perfume in a Poem
March 31st, 2008 — , Announcements, Perfume, Poetry, musings, perfumers on poetry from Heather @ memory & desire
The poem that we’ve been exploring for the last two weeks, “In a Station of the Metro,” took Ezra Pound almost two years to write. I suppose, then, that it’s not such a great shame that I am at a loss for words in response to the great outpouring of cr…
Liz Zorn: Perfume in a Poem
March 30th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Edgar Degas: L’absinthe (The Absinthe Drinkers) In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound - I went through a Lost Generation phase in my teens. And have always been a fan of Ezra Po…
Roxana Villa: Perfume in a Poem
March 29th, 2008 — , fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. ~ Ezra Pound ~ The first line “In the Station of the Metro” pulled up memories of the metro in Paris, London, New York and most vividly my birthplace, B…
Andy Tauer: Perfume in a Poem
March 28th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound When asked to participate in an “imaginative adventure” where I would get a short poem to translate into a fragrant picture, I was utterl…
Michael Storer: Perfume in a Poem
March 27th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
- In a Station of the Metro - The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound - Dear Heather, Since one of my major modes of expression is through aroma, I have created a fragrance that represents my initial impre…
Ayala Sender: Perfume in a Poem
March 26th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. Ezra Pound It’s hard to say what most appeals to me about this poem – the tactile and photographic impression it leaves in me; the rhythm of the wor…
Ineke Rühland: Perfume in a Poem
March 25th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. My first thought upon reading the poem that Heather sent me is that I got very lucky. Not only is it a fun, jaunty little poem, but also the “Metro”…
Anya McCoy: Perfume in a Poem
March 24th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
(click on the graphic above for an enlarged version) Transport On a Theme by Ezra Pound Perfumes transport, trains transport: the movement, the moment of scent commingled, then dispersed. This image came to me in a dream. When I awoke after the dream a…
Christophe Laudamiel: Perfume in a Poem
March 23rd, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. -Ezra Pound- In a Station of the Metro Re:Mix, Real:Mix, Reel:Mix A gulping blackhole towards a shiny blackbody Only fourteen ingredients, top, bottom, …
Vero Kern: Perfume in a Poem
March 22nd, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Fragrant Thoughts On: The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. On “In a Station of the Metro” This is how Ezra Pound introduces his famous haiku: “Three years ago in Paris I got out of a “metro” train at La Concorde, an…
Rachel Jones: Perfume in a Poem
March 21st, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound - I imagine the author “scences” in each face A fragrance all its own, A beautiful signature Each unique, Content to stand alone. Sweet str…
Dawn Spencer Hurwitz: Perfume in a Poem
March 19th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Ezra Pound: In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. With my very idiosyncratic process, the words (the poem “brief”) create an image or images, as if they were visual pieces. From there I begi…
Yosh Han: Perfume in a Poem
March 19th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, Yosh, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems, yosh han from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound - I’m walking through Grand Central NY, I hear lots of voices speaking in many languages. I have a moment of déjà vu, and feel that I am …
Lisa Fong: Perfume in a Poem
March 18th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. by Ezra Pound The poem gave me a feeling of being underground and looking up through a hole. This underground space became a grave, six feet under groun…
Lisa Fong: Perfume in a Poem
March 18th, 2008 — , fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. by Ezra Pound The poem gave me a feeling of being underground and looking up through a hole. This underground space became a grave, six feet under ground. The Metro is also underground, dark, gloomy, and alienating. The people are apparitions, which I felt meant ghosts or persons who have died and passed into memory. I started with base notes which would smell like the earth underground and/or a subway in a large city. For this I used a vetiver…
Mandy Aftel: Perfume in a Poem
March 17th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. Ezra Pound My base would be built around tonka absolute and costus. Warm and sweet like caramel, tonka is the ultimate powdery note. Costus, with its co…
Mandy Aftel: Perfume in a Poem
March 17th, 2008 — , fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. Ezra Pound My base would be built around tonka absolute and costus. Warm and sweet like caramel, tonka is the ultimate powdery note. Costus, with its complicated aroma of a wet dog crossed with crushed violets, retains the alchemical ability to transform every other essence. To create a watery and shimmering base, I would dose heavily with costus to cause the other essences to give up their rough edges, like an apparition. For the middle I would choose broom absolute…
Perfume in a Poem: In a Station of the Metro
March 16th, 2008 — , Announcements, Perfume, Poetry, city, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - by Ezra Pound - From Poetry, April 1913. Online text via Poetry Foundation. The current spacing of the text is from a later modification of the poem b…
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Perfume Inside the Poem: In a Station of the Metro
March 16th, 2008 — , Announcements, city, fantasy perfumes, musings, perfumers, perfumers on poetry, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. - by Ezra Pound - From Poetry, April 1913. Online text via Poetry Foundation. The current spacing of the text is from a later modification of the poem by Pound, published first in June 1913, and later in Pound’s Gaudier-Brzeska: a Memoir, 1916.
Continue reading → Perfume Inside the Poem: In a Station of the Metro
Upcoming: The Perfume Inside the Poem
March 9th, 2008 — , Announcements, Perfume, Poetry, fruit, musings, mystery, perfumers, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Pleasures - by Denise Levertov - I like to find what’s not found at once, but lies within something of another nature, in repose, distinct. Gull feathers of glass, hidden in white pulp: the bones of squid which I pull out and lay blade by blade on the …
Upcoming: The Perfume Inside the Poem
March 9th, 2008 — , Announcements, fruit, musings, mystery, perfumers, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Pleasures - by Denise Levertov - I like to find what’s not found at once, but lies within something of another nature, in repose, distinct. Gull feathers of glass, hidden in white pulp: the bones of squid which I pull out and lay blade by blade on the draining board— tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce the heart, but fragile, substance belying design. Or a fruit, mamey, cased in rough brown peel, the flesh rose-amber, and the seed: the seed a stone of wood, carved and polished, walnut-colored, formed like a brazilnut, but large, large enough to fill the…
In Praise of Ambergris
March 2nd, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, amber, ambergris, animal, incense, musings, poems, smoke from Heather @ memory & desire
Ambergris - by Stanley Kunitz - This body, tapped of every drop of breath, In vast corruption of its swollen pride, Proclaims itself the very whale of death; Yet, I believe, the hand that plumbs its side Will gather dissolution’s sweet increase. Exquis…
In Praise of Ambergris
March 2nd, 2008 — , amber, ambergris, animal, incense, musings, poems, smoke from Heather @ memory & desire
Ambergris - by Stanley Kunitz - This body, tapped of every drop of breath, In vast corruption of its swollen pride, Proclaims itself the very whale of death; Yet, I believe, the hand that plumbs its side Will gather dissolution’s sweet increase. Exquisite fern of death–in nature, ambergris. Meanwhile, thinking of love, I have been dressed For such destruction. Though it surely break, Come pluck the deep wild kernel of my breast, That wafer of devotion, and partake Of its compacted sweetness, till it bring The soul to rise upon its fleshly wing. If gentle heart be scorned, in scorn…
Hidden Joy
February 24th, 2008 — joy, love, marriage, musings, poems, portraits from Heather @ memory & desire
Nothing is Lost - by Noel Coward - Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told Lie all our memories, lie all the notes Of all the music we have ever heard And all the phrases those we loved have spoken, Sorrows and losses time has since consoled, Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes Each sentimental souvenir and token Everything seen, experienced, each word Addressed to us in infancy, before Before we could even know or understands The implications of that wonderland. There they all are, the legendary lies The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears Forgotten debris of forgotten years…
Hidden Joy
February 24th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, joy, love, marriage, musings, poems, portraits from Heather @ memory & desire
Nothing is Lost - by Noel Coward - Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told Lie all our memories, lie all the notes Of all the music we have ever heard And all the phrases those we loved have spoken, Sorrows and losses time has since consoled, Family jok…
The Occasional Pie
February 18th, 2008 — Announcements, Strawberry, berries, fruit, musings, perfumers, pie, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
The Poet’s Occasional Alternative - by Grace Paley - I was going to write a poem I made a pie instead it took about the same amount of time of course the pie was a final draft a poem would have had some distance to go days and weeks and much crumpled paper the pie already had a talking tumbling audience among small trucks and a fire engine on the kitchen floor everybody will like this pie it will have apples and cranberries dried apricots in it many friends will say why in the world did you make only one…
The Occasional Pie
February 18th, 2008 — , Announcements, Perfume, Poetry, Strawberry, berries, fruit, musings, perfumers, pie, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
The Poet’s Occasional Alternative - by Grace Paley - I was going to write a poem I made a pie instead it took about the same amount of time of course the pie was a final draft a poem would have had some distance to go days and weeks and much crumpled p…
The Violet Hour
February 10th, 2008 — musings, poems, violet from Heather @ memory & desire
Ode to a Cluster of Violets - by Pablo Neruda - Crisp cluster plunged in shadow. Drops of violet water and raw sunlight floated up with your scent. A fresh subterranean beauty climbed up from your buds thrilling my eyes and my life. One at a time, flowers that stretched forward silvery stalks, creeping closer to an obscure light shoot by shoot in the shadows, till they crowned the mysterious mass with an intense weight of perfume and together formed a single star with a far-off scent and a purple center. Poignant cluster intimate scent of nature, you resemble a…
The Violet Hour
February 10th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, musings, poems, violet from Heather @ memory & desire
Ode to a Cluster of Violets - by Pablo Neruda - Crisp cluster plunged in shadow. Drops of violet water and raw sunlight floated up with your scent. A fresh subterranean beauty climbed up from your buds thrilling my eyes and my life. One at a time, flow…
Assia’s Dior: A Mystery
February 4th, 2008 — Chypre, grass, love, musings, mystery, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Chlorophyl - by Ted Hughes - She sent him a blade of grass, but no word. Inside it The witchy doll, soaked in Dior. Inside it The gravestone. Inside it A sample of her own ashes. Inside it Her only daughter’s Otherwise non-existent smile. Inside it, the keys Of a sycamore. Inside those, falling The keys Of a sycamore. Inside those, Falling and turning in the air the Keys Of a Sycamore. From Capriccio (Gehenna Press, 1990) reprinted in Collected Poems, edited by Paul Keegan (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003) p. 799.
Assia’s Dior: A Mystery
February 4th, 2008 — , Chypre, Perfume, Poetry, grass, love, musings, mystery, poems, portraits from Heather @ memory & desire
Chlorophyl - by Ted Hughes - She sent him a blade of grass, but no word. Inside it The witchy doll, soaked in Dior. Inside it The gravestone. Inside it A sample of her own ashes. Inside it Her only daughter’s Otherwise non-existent smile. Inside it, th…
fathers, sons, and ghosts
January 25th, 2008 — clove, cologne, hair, hats, musings, musk, oakmoss, poems, woods from Heather @ memory & desire
My Father’s Hats - by Mark Irwin - Sunday mornings I would reach high into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach higher, touching, sometimes fumbling the soft crowns and imagine I was in a forest, wind hymning through pines, where the musky scent of rain clinging to damp earth was his scent I loved, lingering on bands, leather, and on the inner silk crowns where I would smell his hair and almost think I was being held, or climbing a tree, touching the yellow fruit, leaves whose scent was that of clove in the godsome…
fathers, sons, and ghosts
January 24th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, clove, cologne, hair, hats, musings, musk, oakmoss, poems, woods from Heather @ memory & desire
My Father’s Hats - by Mark Irwin - Sunday mornings I would reach high into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach higher, touching, sometimes fumbling the soft crowns and imagine I was in a forest, wind hymning through pines, whe…
discovery
January 15th, 2008 — love, musings, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
A New Poet - by Linda Pastan - Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes in its odd color or the way its leaves grow in splayed rows down the whole length of the page. In fact the very page smells of spilled red wine and the mustiness of the sea on a foggy day - the odor of truth and of lying. And the words are so familiar, so strangely new, words you almost wrote yourself, if only…
discovery
January 15th, 2008 — , Perfume, Poetry, love, musings, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
A New Poet - by Linda Pastan - Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes in its odd color or the way its leaves grow in splayed rows down the whole len…
beauty in the city
January 4th, 2008 — Carnation, city, clove, musings, pepper, poems, winter from Heather @ memory & desire
Human Beauty - by Albert Goldbarth - If you write a poem about love … the love is a bird, the poem is an origami bird. If you write a poem about death … the death is a terrible fire, the poem is an offering of paper cutout flames you feed to the fire. We can see, in these, the space between our gestures and the power they address —an insufficiency. And yet a kind of beauty, a distinctly human beauty. When a winter storm from out of nowhere hit New York one night in 1892, the crew at a…
beauty in the city
January 4th, 2008 — , Carnation, Perfume, Poetry, city, clove, musings, pepper, poems, winter from Heather @ memory & desire
Human Beauty - by Albert Goldbarth - If you write a poem about love … the love is a bird, the poem is an origami bird. If you write a poem about death … the death is a terrible fire, the poem is an offering of paper cutout flames you feed to the fi…
taking down the tree
December 28th, 2007 — ashtray, firewood, musings, poems, smoke, woods from Heather @ memory & desire
Taking Down the Tree - by Jane Kenyon - “Give me some light!” cries Hamlet’s uncle midway through the murder of Gonzago. “Light! Light!” cry scattering courtesans. Here, as in Denmark, it’s dark at four, and even the moon shines with only half a heart. The ornaments go down into the box: the silver spaniel, My Darling on its collar, from Mother’s childhood in Illinois; the balsa jumping jack my brother and I fought over, pulling limb from limb. Mother drew it together again with thread while I watched, feeling depraved at the age of ten. With something more than…
taking down the tree
December 28th, 2007 — , Perfume, ashtray, firewood, musings, poem, poems, smoke, woods from Heather @ memory & desire
Taking Down the Tree - by Jane Kenyon - “Give me some light!” cries Hamlet’s uncle midway through the murder of Gonzago. “Light! Light!” cry scattering courtesans. Here, as in Denmark, it’s dark at four, and even the moon shines with only half a heart….
unto whom i burn
December 17th, 2007 — frankincense, incense, musings, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
So why frankincense, why now? Aside from the “We Three Kings of Orient Are” playing in every store and the red velvet boxes of frankincense in Christian gift shops “to celebrate the reason for the season,” (a season which, in the words of Stephen Colbert, is so deeply Christian that it predates Christianity) I had not intended to write about the same stuff that I expect most perfume writers and critics to focus on at this time of the year.
unto whom i burn
December 17th, 2007 — , Perfume, Poetry, frankincense, incense, musings, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
unto thee i - by e. e. cummings - unto thee i burn incense the bowl crackles upon the gloom arise purple pencils fluent spires of fragrance the bowl seethes a flutter of stars a turbulence of forms delightful with indefinable flowering, the air is deep…
orangerie II
December 11th, 2007 — citrus, musings, orange, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Why I am not a Painter - by Frank O’Hara – I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in. “Sit down and have a drink” he says. I drink; we drink. I look up. “You have SARDINES in it.” “Yes, it needed something there.” “Oh.” I go and the days go by and I drop in again. The painting is going on, and I go, and the days go by. I drop in. The…
orangerie II
December 11th, 2007 — , Perfume, Poetry, citrus, musings, orange, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Why I am not a Painter - by Frank O’Hara – I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in. “Sit down and have a drink” he says. I drin…
orangerie
December 4th, 2007 — citrus, cologne, musings, orange, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Tangerine - by Ruth L. Schwartz - It was a flower once, it was one of a billion flowers whose perfume broke through closed car windows, forced a blessing on their drivers. Then what stayed behind grew swollen, as we do; grew juice instead of tears, and small hard sour seeds, each one bitter, as we are, and filled with possibility. Now a hole opens up in its skin, where it was torn from the branch; ripeness can’t stop itself, breathes out; we can’t stop it either. We breathe in. From Dear Good Naked Morning, Autumn House Press, 2005. First…
orangerie I
December 3rd, 2007 — , Perfume, Poetry, citrus, musings, orange, poems from Heather @ memory & desire
Tangerine - by Ruth L. Schwartz - It was a flower once, it was one of a billion flowers whose perfume broke through closed car windows, forced a blessing on their drivers. Then what stayed behind grew swollen, as we do; grew juice instead of tears, and…