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

Saturday, April 27, 2013

the pussy willow and the pussy willow

one must always assume one approaches the pussy willow wrongly, especially the pussy willow dipped in dew.


one always goes about things all wrong with blunt hands and preconceptions.


it is only upon breaking open against one another, long after the approach, after frantic periods of friction and bucking one another's rib cages and pelvises and black lips and stories, that one finds the rupture, the way through;



only then does one see the pussy willow truly.



 

6 comments:

  1. Wow, I see spring in the great snowy north in your amazing pussy willow photos. "it is only upon breaking open against one another..." Yes, yes, and yes some more. I know some who have never experienced this breaking open. They are empty shells, ghosts. Poetry breaks me open again and again and then some more. I think I'm done with this inner shattering and along comes a line like this:

    "another dawn in the village by the river
    and I'm jealous of the 63 moons of Jupiter..." ~Jim Harrison

    Thank you for sharing your inspiring photos and words, Erin. Much love. xo

    ReplyDelete
  2. de toujours aussi belles images, émouvantes et fragiles... et ces textes pleins de sensibilité comme à fleur de peau...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Pussy willows make me think that there may be a god after all.

    ReplyDelete
  4. In the series, my joy is understood. In the 5th it peaks in the truth.

    ReplyDelete
  5. you, Young Lady, are a "card",,not surprisingly, I think you already know that...:) reckon?

    ReplyDelete
  6. i am feeling this breaking open, now.

    right now.

    and you express it exactly as i see it - it is only through the rupture - so hard to accept but so true - that we access the answers, the healing.

    with our blunt hands and preconceptions, isn't it remarkable that we coexist with something as pure, as delicate as the pussy willow? could we possibly ever fathom that purity is in fact our core?

    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))