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

Friday, January 25, 2013

100 000 voices singing










9 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. yes, kirikion, the world is even in its most simple gestures.

      xo
      erin

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  2. Replies
    1. who can say anything, dzovinar, when something so unique says everything there is to be said. reduction seems like more, in this case, doesn't it?

      xo
      erin

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  3. such specificity against the white snow, so many moments of being at the pivot between structure and non-existence ... but i am ravished by this, by each twig that lifts itself into the light ...

    .

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. you are ravished by this? in this way i become ravished by you, by your willing spirit, by your ability to see and to be moved.

      xo
      erin

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  4. lignes pures... blancheur apaisante... Magnifique et saisissant

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  5. kwarkito, this time of year it is impossible to walk without being striken with intensity of being. something comes to mind that i thought of while walking along a river the other day considering grasses and small plants such as these, a poem about attention and time. i thought especially about the lines of architecture. while we don't ask of ourselves any more, it seems, in terms of modern architecture in this part of the world, nature asks it of us if we care to notice.


    Burning (Andante non troppo)

    By Jack Gilbert

    We are all burning in time, but each is consumed
    at his own speed. Each is the product
    of his spirit’s refraction, of the inflection
    of that mind. It is the pace of our living
    that makes the world available. Regardless of
    the body’s lion-wrath, or forest waiting, despite
    the mind’s splendid appetite or the sad power
    in our soul’s separation from God and women,
    it is always our gait of being that decides
    how much is seen, what the mystery of us knows,
    and what the heart will smell of the landscape
    as the Mexican train continues at a dog-trot each
    day going north. The grand Italian churches are
    covered with detail which is visible at the pace
    people walk by. The great modern buildings are
    blank because there is no time to see from the car.
    A thousand years ago when they built the gardens
    of Kyoto, the stones were set in the streams askew.
    Whoever went quickly would fall in. When we slow,
    the garden can choose what we notice. Can change
    our heart. On the wall of a toilet in Rock Springs
    years ago there was a dispenser that sold tubes of
    cream to numb a man’s genitals. Called Linger.

    xo
    erin

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  6. Absolutely beautiful in its simplicity

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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))