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Seven Crystal Balls (Adventures of Tintin)
The Crab with the Golden Claws (The Adventures of Tintin)
Wonder Woman Vol. 1: Blood (The New 52)

5 hours, 52 minutes ago
mika_ added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Wild Nights: New & Selected Poems
"Lives of the Poets" "One stood among the violets listening to a bird. One went to the toilet and was struck by the moon. One felt hopeless until a trumpet crash, and then lo, he became a diamond. I have a shovel. Can I turn it into a poem? On my stove I’m boiling some milk thistle. I hope it will turn into a winged thesis before you stop reading. Look, I’m topless! Listen: approaching hooves! One drowned in a swimming pool. One removed his shoes and yearned off a bridge. One lives with Alzheimer’s in a state facility, spittle in his white beard. It turns out words are no help. But here I am with my shovel digging like a fool beside the spilth and splosh of the ungirdled sea. I can’t stop. The horses are coming, the thieves. I still haven’t found lasting love. I still want to hear viols in the little beach hotel that’s torn down and gone. I want to see again the fish schooling and glittering like a veil where the waves shove against the breakwater. Gone is the girl in her white slip testing the chill with one bare foot. It’s too cold, but she goes in, so carefully, oh." Excerpt from "Scrapbook" "Our blues assume you understand not much, and try to be alive, just as we do, and that it may be helpful to hold the hand of someone as lost as you." "Heraclitean" "In goes the cafeteria worker in her hairnet. In goes the philosophy teacher explaining the theory of eternal return, and Anton Stadler with his clarinet, still owing money to Mozart. In goes Mozart. Everyone flopped into the creel of the happy fisherman, everyone eaten. Every river is Lethean, so why should we care if it’s not the same river? I hate how everything changes, tree to failing term paper, chatelaine to beheaded plotter, drug dealer to narc. The heart softening faster than cereal but then hardening to a relic which turns into another line of depressed poetry to recite to the next eager trainee anxious to be more than lint. Going up, you’re also going down, so either way, as your mother said, Be nice. When she went in, she was very thin. Earth, air, fire, water, mother. Fish pulse slowly under the river ice."
6 hours, 40 minutes ago
Rising Stars Compendium
Batman: Bruce Wayne - Fugitive (New Edition)

11 hours, 57 minutes ago
Kurkkuharja added 4 items to Some gems of my library list
Murderous Passions : The Delirious Cinema of Jesus Franco by Stephen Thrower (June 25, 2015) Hardcover
Pääoma. 3. osa. Kapitalistisen tuotannon kokonaisprosessi
Pääoma. 2. osa. Pääoman kiertokulkuprosessi
Pääoma. 1. osa. Pääoman tuotantoprosessi

16 hours, 2 minutes ago
yrjaenae added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Villieläimiä

19 hours, 8 minutes ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 2 items to Reading in 2016 list
Daredevil Vol. 3: The Daredevil You Know
Daredevil Vol. 4: The Autobiography of Matt Murdock

1 day, 3 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 2 items to Books I've Read list
Daredevil Vol. 3: The Daredevil You Know
Daredevil Vol. 4: The Autobiography of Matt Murdock

1 day, 3 hours ago
LittleRedCorvette added 1 item to Books I read list
Anything Goes: The Autobiography

1 day, 12 hours ago
Jpit added 1 item to Reading list
Imperial Bedrooms
Read: June
1 day, 15 hours ago
yrjaenae added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Uudestisyntyvä Temppeli
"Kristus-sikiö"
1 day, 16 hours ago
mika_ added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Lucifer at the Starlite: Poems

2 days, 1 hour ago
ChocoWhite added 1 item to Books list
The Boy Who Talked to Dogs

2 days, 14 hours ago
Secret Avengers, Vol. 1: Mission to Mars

3 days, 15 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Reading in 2016 list
300

3 days, 23 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Books I've Read list
300

3 days, 23 hours ago
My raimBow added 5 items to Books I want to read list
The Girl on the Train
Breakfast of Champions: A Novel
Rosemary
Valley of the Dolls
Green Light

4 days, 3 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Reading in 2016 list
Deadpool: World

4 days, 3 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Books I've Read list
Deadpool: World

4 days, 3 hours ago
Justice League of America: The Nail
Joker: The Devil

4 days, 4 hours ago
mika_ added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Tell Me (American Poets Continuum)
Excerpt from "The Numbers" "How many prayers are there tonight, how many of us must stay awake and listen?" "A Childhood" "Our drinks came with paper umbrellas. My mother put on tennis whites. My father went to the bar the way he always did. My mother put on tennis whites. My brother threw me against a wall the way he always did. I believed in my guardian angel. My brother threw my mother against a wall. I walked in my sleep. I believed in my guardian angel. I woke up far from the house. I walked in my sleep. My mother read fairy tales and sang to me. I woke up far from the house. My mother was old, my father dead. My mother read fairy tales and sang to me. My father and brother crashed through the door. My mother was old, my father dead along with my guardian angel. My father and brother crashed through the door. I went to the bar along with my guardian angel and our drinks came with paper umbrellas." Excerpt from "New Year's Day" "Today I want to resolve nothing. I only want to walk a little longer in the cold blessing of the rain, and lift my face to it." Excerpt from "Generations" "I walk the night city, looking up at lit windows, and there is no table set for me, nowhere I can go to be filled. This is the city of grandparents, immigrants, arrivals, where I’ve come too late with my name, and empty plate. This is the place." "'What Do Women Want?'" "I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment from its hanger like I’m choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin, it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in."
4 days, 7 hours ago
rickterenzi voted for 55 images [View All]

4 days, 9 hours ago
Vision: Yesterday and Tomorrow
Superman: Up, Up, and Away
Parker: The Hunter (Richard Stark
Star Wars: Shattered Empire

4 days, 12 hours ago
yrjaenae added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Hunnuton Isis: Tiede I
"Kunpa meidän ei tarvitsisi ryhtyä kritisoimaan näitä pintapuolisia tutkijoita ja rikkiviisaita saivartelijoita, joilla ei oikeastaan olisi oikeutta nimittää itseään tiedemiehiksi. "
4 days, 16 hours ago
Villiana added 2 items to Read in 2016 list
Hybrids (Neanderthal Parallax, 3)
Sin City, Vol. 5: Family Values

4 days, 16 hours ago
Cinderella: From Fabletown with Love
Cinderella: Fables Are Forever
Fables: Werewolves of the Heartland
Fairest, Vol. 4: Of Men and Mice
Fairest, Vol. 3: The Return of the Maharajah

4 days, 17 hours ago
mika_ added 1 item to 100 Favorite Books of Poetry list
Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror: Poems (Poets, Penguin)
"As One Put Drunk into the Packet-Boat" I tried each thing, only some were immortal and free. Elsewhere we are as sitting in a place where sunlight Filters down, a little at a time, Waiting for someone to come. Harsh words are spoken, As the sun yellows the green of the maple tree.... So this was all, but obscurely I felt the stirrings of new breath in the pages Which all winter long had smelled like an old catalogue. New sentences were starting up. But the summer Was well along, not yet past the mid-point But full and dark with the promise of that fullness, That time when one can no longer wander away And even the least attentive fall silent To watch the thing that is prepared to happen. A look of glass stops you And you walk on shaken: was I the perceived? Did they notice me, this time, as I am, Or is it postponed again? The children Still at their games, clouds that arise with a swift Impatience in the afternoon sky, then dissipate As limpid, dense twilight comes. Only in that tooting of a horn Down there, for a moment, I thought The great, formal affair was beginning, orchestrated, Its colors concentrated in a glance, a ballade That takes in the whole world, now, but lightly, Still lightly, but with wide authority and tact. The prevalence of those gray flakes falling? They are sun motes. You have slept in the sun Longer than the sphinx, and are none the wiser for it. Come in. And I thought a shadow fell across the door But it was only her come to ask once more If I was coming in, and not to hurry in case I wasn't. The night sheen takes over. A moon of cistercian pallor Has climbed to the center of heaven, installed, Finally involved with the business of darkness. And a sigh heaves from all the small things on earth, The books, the papers, the old garters and union-suit buttons Kept in a white cardboard box somewhere, and all the lower Versions of cities flattened under the equalizing night. The summer demands and takes away too much, But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes.
4 days, 23 hours ago
mika_ added 1 item to Read in 2016 list
Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror: Poems (Poets, Penguin)
"As One Put Drunk into the Packet-Boat" "I tried each thing, only some were immortal and free. Elsewhere we are as sitting in a place where sunlight Filters down, a little at a time, Waiting for someone to come. Harsh words are spoken, As the sun yellows the green of the maple tree.... So this was all, but obscurely I felt the stirrings of new breath in the pages Which all winter long had smelled like an old catalogue. New sentences were starting up. But the summer Was well along, not yet past the mid-point But full and dark with the promise of that fullness, That time when one can no longer wander away And even the least attentive fall silent To watch the thing that is prepared to happen. A look of glass stops you And you walk on shaken: was I the perceived? Did they notice me, this time, as I am, Or is it postponed again? The children Still at their games, clouds that arise with a swift Impatience in the afternoon sky, then dissipate As limpid, dense twilight comes. Only in that tooting of a horn Down there, for a moment, I thought The great, formal affair was beginning, orchestrated, Its colors concentrated in a glance, a ballade That takes in the whole world, now, but lightly, Still lightly, but with wide authority and tact. The prevalence of those gray flakes falling? They are sun motes. You have slept in the sun Longer than the sphinx, and are none the wiser for it. Come in. And I thought a shadow fell across the door But it was only her come to ask once more If I was coming in, and not to hurry in case I wasn't. The night sheen takes over. A moon of cistercian pallor Has climbed to the center of heaven, installed, Finally involved with the business of darkness. And a sigh heaves from all the small things on earth, The books, the papers, the old garters and union-suit buttons Kept in a white cardboard box somewhere, and all the lower Versions of cities flattened under the equalizing night. The summer demands and takes away too much, But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes." "Forties Flick" "The shadow of the Venetian blind on the painted wall, Shadows of the snake-plant and cacti, the plaster animals, Focus on the tragic melancholy of the bright stare Into nowhere, a hole like the black holes in space. ‘In bra and panties she sidles to the window: Zip! Up with the blind. A fragile street scene offers itself, With wafer-thin pedestrians who know where they are going. The blind comes down slowly, the slats are slowly titled up. Why must it always end this way? A dais with woman reading, with the ruckus of her hair And all that is unsaid about her pulling us back to her, with her Into the silence that night alone can’t explain. Silence of the library, of the telephone with its pad, But we didn’t have to reinvent these either: They had gone away into the plot of a story, The “art” part—knowing what important details to leave out And the way character is developed. Things too real To be of much concern, hence artificial, yet now all over the page, The indoors with the outside becoming part of you As you find you had never left off laughing at death, The background, dark vine at the edge of the porch." Excerpt from "Grand Galop" "The names we stole don't remove us" "The One Thing That Can Save America" "Is anything central? Orchards flung out on the land, Urban forests, rustic plantations, knee-high hills? Are place names central? Elm Grove, Adcock Corner, Story Book Farm? As they concur with a rush at eye level Beating themselves into eyes which have had enough Thank you, no more thank you. And they come on like scenery mingled with darkness The damp plains, overgrown suburbs, Places of known civic pride, of civil obscurity. These are connected to my version of America But the juice is elsewhere. This morning as I walked out of your room After breakfast crosshatched with Backward and forward glances, backward into light, Forward into unfamiliar light, Was it our doing, and was it The material, the lumber of life, or of lives We were measuring, counting? A mood soon to be forgotten In crossed girders of light, cool downtown shadow In this morning that has seized us again? I know that I braid too much on my own Snapped-off perceptions of things as they come to me. They are private and always will be. Where then are the private turns of event Destined to bloom later like golden chimes Released over a city from a highest tower? The quirky things that happen to me, and I tell you, And you know instantly what I mean? What remote orchard reached by winding roads Hides them? Where are these roots? It is the lumps and trials That tell us whether we shall be known And whether our fate can be exemplary, like a star. All the rest is waiting For a letter that never arrives, Day after day, the exasperation Until finally you have ripped it open not knowing what it is, The two envelope halves lying on a plate. The message was wise, and seemingly Dictated a long time ago, but its time has still Not arrived, telling of danger, and the mostly limited Steps that can be taken against danger Now and in the future, in cool yards, In quiet small houses in the country, Our country, in fenced areas, in cool shady streets."
4 days, 23 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Reading in 2016 list
Deadpool, Vol. 5: What Happened in Vegas

5 days, 2 hours ago
Hootsaidtheowl added 1 item to Books I've Read list
Deadpool, Vol. 5: What Happened in Vegas

5 days, 2 hours ago
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Classics Volume 2
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Classics Volume 1
World
On the Planet Mongo (The Complete Flash Gordon Library)

5 days, 2 hours ago

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