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

Thursday, January 8, 2015

pigeon, a new year tradition in self exploration

we each arrive about the size of a well fed pigeon,
the breadth of a man's two hands




and we burn, a small finite fire, in the oven of the world




nothing special
we're here



7 comments:

  1. we do arrive, we do burn, it is nothing special and we leave. but in between, poets like you, grab a moment from the ethers and recall the mystery of us, whispering it's infinite song. thank you.

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  2. it seems to happen when i have posted naked photographs... (do you see that every photograph i post is naked? does that show through?) my large computer has died and i am at the mercy of time or luck to post another photo...

    dirk, you're good and patient to come.

    nene, yes, but for this one breath!

    amanda, i can't quite abide the word poet, although i know you mean it generously. maybe desperate or ecstatic or mad. perhaps even inadequately equipped.

    a new year. what will we make of this world? what will the world make of us?

    xo
    erin

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  3. (oh, something in me hates that last photo. something in that hate forces me to then use it.)

    (and - i remember this just now - many years ago when i was young i took naked photographs of myself for my then lover. i sat on a stool then too. when the photographs were developed i was so surprised to see how unattractive i was, how vulgar my body was then, even at 24 or so. i tore the photographs up, never showing or telling him, as though this symbolic act would hide my vulgarity from him, which he must have witnessed on his own over and over, although proximity sometimes helps to hide things literally and metaphorically. for years i was uneasy because, of course, then photographs were developed by someone else. someone in taiwan, i thought, had to suffer the weight of my intentions gone wrong. now i see myself on the stool with no expectations of beauty, only of vitality. my stomach is stretched with two children and i am twenty years older. confrontation in this regard is important. this kind of confrontation stretches the diameters of expectation, self knowledge and the definition of beauty and empathy with oneself. there is, of course, reality too to be tested.)

    what is in the foreground of the photographs are the bedclothes, which in the happenstance of being, appear contoured like a birth channel.

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  4. Ser joven y tener un cuerpo estupendo no tiene gracia, es lo normal. Lo maravilloso es no ser joven ¿? y estar orgulloso del cuerpo que nos sirve de cobijo de las arrugas que cruzan nuestro rostro y nuestro abdomen, tienes la suerte de tener un cuerpo que confiesa haber vivido.
    Sencillamente hermosa.

    Un abrazo

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  5. Cette tache blanche comme une âme qui sort de ton corps assis, lui souhaitant bonne route et aussi de ne pas rentrer trop tard, car " pendant ton voyage au dehors de moi, mon esprit sera nu ". Ce dénuement est un partage, un aveu d'amour de la vie telle qu'elle est qui nous transporte de la vie à la mort et transforme ce corps qui est le notre. Non Erin,il n'y a aucune vulgarité, simplement un geste d'amour adressé à l'univers. Merci
    Je t'embrasse.

    Roger

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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))