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Hi mr.david gosselin. Ur stack’s are really inspiring and a question arose in my mind. To post all these arts photo and else over time, do you got some site you prefer? Because when i go hunt for arts on net i stumble so often on pinterest, gettyimage, etsy amazon, replica and deception. Since you often got awesome demonstration, i bet you have some links to find more easily true photo sculpture and else. I love art, but hate to be stuck in a loop. I feel like since some art are a lot revealing of the true past… its often shadowban to the commoners, like gematria. So 2 question: first whats your tool to find art on net, secondly are you related to roger gosselin, vanessa valinda and veronique gosselin? If so we are far family, my son’s are gosselin. ✌️😁👍 have a nice day !

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I have no special site or link. I got the image for this post from Pixabay. Depending on the themes of poems, I’ll tend to look up specific kinds of art and work backwards. I try to be inspired when I’m looking for the right image lol. As 2), no I don’t happen to know any of those people, but Gosselin is a pretty popular name here in Quebec haha.

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True, and they all live in quebec province( the ones im related), some in the city. Big family indeed, thats why i ask:) i wished their would exist a wiki art or an almanach of arts by state ,century and such… to pick in. A great archives of arts! Would be great 😊

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Wiki kinda does it but meeh, its not the same as a gallery. And we got to be precise also its not always the accurate thing

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By Michael Yost

͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­

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The WindowBy Michael Yost

David Gosselin

Jun 3

READ IN APP 

No glass is pure

Or vacant of a scene.

My window shows

A robin’s red and knows

The sky, serene,

Blue, broad, and sure.

Glass is not still,

But dapples, sways our sight

Of lead limbed tree,

It’s panes not blank, nor free,

But quick with light;

Light’s note and trill.

So sacral glass

Admits the infinite

And moving blaze

Which burgeons in all days;

Becomes, in it,

The light, just as

The light becomes

The color, shaped and stained:

Bemattered spirit,

And we, in vision, near it.

Yet what is gained?

All light succumbs.

Light’s waves lapse still,

Its particles dispersed;

Or else it hides

Behind the titan sides

Of Earth, immersed

In night’s old chill.

Yet instant stands

Experience’s shape

Before the mind,

Truth’s body now divined;

Her breast and nape,

Her limbs and hands.

But memory

Keeps no perfected vision;

The blinds are drawn,

The photograph is gone

In time’s quick scission;

The faces flee.

The life of things

Is known, at least, and seen,

In fragments, pieced

Together. What has ceased

To be has been,

Yet memory rings.

I hope the seed

Of images abused,

Unworshipped, shattered,

Now pollinated, scattered,

Will bloom, re-fused,

Our rose of need;

That rose which blooms

— Despite the subtle wars

Of mind and world —

In fire that’s jeweled and pearled

From heaven’s corridors

And lighted rooms.         

************

I thought of clinging blankets of lapland rosebay. That was a long time ago.

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Thank you. You always find such wonderful poems. In the past you read some of them aloud. I hope you will consider doing so more. You have a wonderful voice and I do find poems are glorified when they are read by one who has pre-loved it.

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There are many more readings coming up.

I usually include one, but they take some time and I'm in the middle of a few big projects, which are almost done. The longer the poem, the more takes it requires.

If things are quiet, recording-wise, it's usually because the hamster wheels are spinning at full speed behind the scenes haha. We're gearing up for the summer issue of our print magazine, and a new translation of Schiller's "The Legislation of Lycurgus and Solon" is near completion (along with a new deep-dive for Age of Muses, "A Bronze Age Tragedy: BAP and the Delphic Perversion of Plato").

Thanks for the encouragement and glad you liked the poem!

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Two possessives, unalike in dignity, here in fair Verona where we lay our scene; negligence or ignorance, could be either.

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