Photos – Page 40 – Via Negativa

January 7, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Like water for ice

This entry is part 12 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Pome: 'The women there gave their love away as if it were water. The next morning we made them take baptism. Every time the priest mentioned love, he raised his eyes toward the only heaven he knew.'

(See the photo minus the words here.)

January 5, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Introspectre

This entry is part 11 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'I am erratum: the dropped apostrophe, upside-down plane, cow skull in the desert, brown tree snake on guam, and I earn a special place in your honor roll of regrets.'

January 2, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Horseman, pass by

This entry is part 10 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'The horse I rode in on, a proud Andalusian steed, screamed like a native when it was cornered by that rabble of cooks.'

Replacing yesterday’s installment in the series, which is now the focus of an exciting contest: Name the Strange Roundish Object in the Digital Postcard! See comment thread for details.

January 1, 2009 by Dave Bonta

Gilt

photo of an oak apple gall with a poem about El Dorado

December 30, 2008August 1, 2015 by Teju Cole

Among the conquistadors

Photos and text by Teju Cole

foggy park-like area in Savanna, Georgia

In Savannah, a homeless man, quite drunk, came out of the fog. “I am homeless,” he announced. He began to fulminate about the statues in front of the Academy of Arts and Sciences. They were of famous artists, but he took them to be conquistadors. “This one,” he said, pointing to Raphael, “was a mass murderer. And that one over there” — Phidias — “was a child abuser.”

I gave him money. He reached into his coat and handed me a flower.

hand holding flower

December 29, 2008 by Dave Bonta

Misfit

This entry is part 9 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem:

December 27, 2008 by Dave Bonta

Legend

This entry is part 8 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'Because we appeared to have come from where the ocean meets the sky, the Indians thought we were emissaries of the sun. They'll believe anything, these infidels.'

December 27, 2008 by Dave Bonta

Knight

This entry is part 7 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'Grief was the armor I brought with me from Extremadura.'

December 25, 2008 by Dave Bonta

Prima materia

This entry is part 6 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'Before we brought them more specialized tools, they used to make blades and mirrors from the same black stone: blades for killing, mirrors for capturing souls.'

For a larger version of the photo sans poem, see here.

December 24, 2008 by Dave Bonta

The birds

This entry is part 5 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador

Poem: 'The forest went halfway to forever. There was a kind of dove so numerous that one flock could darken the sky for a day. It wasn't natural.'