not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Friday, March 18, 2011


can we have a day of nothing
i will use my table manners and say please
i'll line up my fork, my knife, my spoon
i'll press my napkin at its crease
my chair will be polite
can we have a day of nothing, please
every blunt memory
and every jagged charcoal thought
will be brought against my knee
the snapped in two refuse
will cease
one image only today, please
my knees
as they break the rise of hill
and light breaks there upon me


  1. thank you ollie, but i think it's the trees, the light, the hill that inspires, every day, every too much, every moment of nothing. you're very kind.


  2. this is like poor Oliver Twist asking for seconds, only the other way around: asking to have nothing but the nothingness of the world. the irony is that that's asking for everything.

    old zen story: student says: master, will you take my mind from me? master says: alright, show me your mind and i will take it from you. but i cannot find my mind, the student replies. the master: see, i've already taken your mind from you.

    it makes me laugh: you're very well mannered as you ask the world to act the thief. i sympathize, although, at the present time, my mind is full of the risen dead. it's like they have nowhere else to go. you can understand, i'm sure, why i'm reluctant to ask them to leave. farther on down the road i will, no doubt, come to these words of yours as a prayer, asking for relief.


"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))