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

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

even the moon can be written upon

as familiar as the rock upon me like a chest is and the trees bearing down on me


as familiar, 
this bare page breathing, 
come~

4 comments:

  1. ..bare page breathing..
    I come here, look up at the page you sent off and here you are breathing too.

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  2. as if the self is only one breath that dissolves in this landscape

    as if that one breath is written on, or by, the moon, or the memory of the moon

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  3. we breathe in so many different ways, rosaria))

    ollie, i laugh. desolation is what many would and have called it. this was the sudbury landscape the other day. you would be familiar with it. i don't say desolation though, not any more. instead i say, opportunity.

    james, the falling through stratospheres and unbecoming to become, who said i was what and when? i am here but gone.

    xo
    erin

    ReplyDelete

"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))