not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
on the other side of this curtain a woman sits frozen permanently (in my mind) on a chair beside tables of stuff for sale representing years and countless memories. i can pretend i know what happens on the other side of the curtain knowing this, but these few elements are not enough for knowledge.
on this side of the curtain time ceases to exist as i open my mouth
Monday, October 17, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
there is something in between the trees. and i don't mean in between each individual pine, or between the pine and the tamarack. i mean there is a place between the tree and itself being the tree, that i recognize from a timeless self, a self so young i don't know time yet. i recognize this place. it speaks out from my chest. and it speaks inwardly, as well. driving through the forest i hear this voice.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
did you know that it is only soil and water that make the tree?
you take one page of soil and pass it like velum over one page
of water. and what of babies, my soiled page to your water-
shed, verso to recto? what springiness results then, what
uncoiling life! what of poetry? what of that? what of
murmurings and half remembered dreams? what is more
real, my leg or the chair? what if we were to crumble the
page of my leg and plant it inside the page of the chair?
what would be born then? what books? what verse?