Helen Frankenthaler died today-met her through a professor at SU- even shared an elevator and a walk to his show in NYC -Kind, friendly and of course a brilliant painter. She came to prominence at a time when women were considered a sidelight to "real" painters... she didn't give a shit about any of that-she spoke eloquently through her work. We should all be so.

Mark Strand, “Lines for Winter”

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.