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

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

the room


we fear these things in the distant future
we fear them - rooms that aren't even constructed yet

so i feared it
and now it is here
and i say, well, what now?  what now?

it wasn't anything to fear after all
just something to become accustomed to

doesn't mean i like it
just means i have to learn to live within it


in the room

you slide by me
frames
of a picture
corners of a book
with pencil drawings
released
i climb in
and climb in again
and find myself
nowhere
there are children calling
through shallow rooms
and sharks swimming
in hollow waters
you slide you slide you slide by me
frames
of a picture
tabletop mechanics
an apple
where is the once cart
i hear a horse calling through shallow rooms
the sharks hold wide their newspapers
wear spectacles
drink drinks with ice cubes
cast wide stained rings on tabletops
laugh inappropriately
and i climb in
climb in again
and find myself
nowhere.


 

5 comments:

  1. it wasn't anything to fear after all
    just something to become accustomed to

    doesn't mean i like it
    just means i have to learn to live within it

    That, I think, is the essence of acceptance, which doesn't mean approval, simply living in accordance with things as they are, as they change. It's never as bad as we fear, or a good as we hope. Great pic, and the second piece is gorgeous. I'm reading (among other things) Gaston Bachelard's The Poetics of Space, and he has so much to say about how the imagination clings to interior spaces -- spaces called home, or psyche, or heart ... Home, as you say, be exactly where nothing IS. - Brendan

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  2. You find the coolest places. Keep exploring.

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  3. Yes.
    Pondering with you.
    The future is the present.
    And now what/
    Oh my.
    You see so many angles, shine the light on so many shadows.

    I thought the same after each major wish came through; now what?

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  4. nowhere is an exiting place. well, not really. as we move through its many rooms we find ourselves longing for something - anything - that will make us part of some kind of story. doesn't have to be an epic novel; sometimes even a limerick will suffice :)

    this, this is like a warm breath on my bare bones. i don't know if that's a pleasant sensation - it is and it isn't - but it reaches me beyond the places that get at the meaning of words.

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  5. wonderful.

    i've always embraced the unconstructed spaces. my issue has been trying to fill them before they're finished.

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"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))