tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19238743129850565622024-03-20T11:32:30.264-04:00photographs from a white spaceerinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comBlogger689125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-48647854727424906392023-11-08T21:58:00.003-05:002023-11-09T08:17:28.715-05:00rescued from the middenheap<div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEhpqK4WIKcMBEa2LUvw8txkFC1U2nZsOp4n0SUw7MYKzf1q4rph78w2yMpaERUyB8j_4QBJADyKfoXXDlGEreg6Xs0u-FKEsPVmq5N1at9f0y90Ha3BEhjiFXt4UYWA9g5TsLlhv0gNTTaMauwLPY4TVY5PDPW1oL-CzR-2UUxqFe-oDmpFTVmdMfSA/s1440/pepper_DSC9939%20colour.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="957" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEhpqK4WIKcMBEa2LUvw8txkFC1U2nZsOp4n0SUw7MYKzf1q4rph78w2yMpaERUyB8j_4QBJADyKfoXXDlGEreg6Xs0u-FKEsPVmq5N1at9f0y90Ha3BEhjiFXt4UYWA9g5TsLlhv0gNTTaMauwLPY4TVY5PDPW1oL-CzR-2UUxqFe-oDmpFTVmdMfSA/s16000/pepper_DSC9939%20colour.jpg" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"> How beautiful,</div><div style="text-align: left;">After the autumn storm,</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The red pepper.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"> Buson<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0haq92GptA20fU5f5sankJY8pkIq1l-vCECkgzkC_8FlzJFxiUj7bbVI3aiPr1Yu-HS0Q9lOZ8kpDMQSpZ8_1kg0jGFl85UvHfmQng5xSPdDTE9oRQ-KcclEYnGbJ_j-0309gwpB2j8LZL37F7SS-Dhehgspj2PygctA5C6CaNpYQnrTBO9BTdVlGlc/s1440/pepper_DSC9932%20bl%20wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="956" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0haq92GptA20fU5f5sankJY8pkIq1l-vCECkgzkC_8FlzJFxiUj7bbVI3aiPr1Yu-HS0Q9lOZ8kpDMQSpZ8_1kg0jGFl85UvHfmQng5xSPdDTE9oRQ-KcclEYnGbJ_j-0309gwpB2j8LZL37F7SS-Dhehgspj2PygctA5C6CaNpYQnrTBO9BTdVlGlc/s16000/pepper_DSC9932%20bl%20wh.jpg" /></a></div></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-8202561045161466682023-05-20T08:20:00.004-04:002023-05-20T08:20:29.541-04:00Music and News<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">I've
finally posted the piece of music by my second born (they identify as
they/them now). Sorry I never did post their original piece but you can
find their cover <a href="https://erinwilsonmiscellanyandpoems.blogspot.com/2023/05/holywow.html#more">here</a> (with a piece of surprising news about <i>Blue</i>)! Gosh darn I love their version of the song, "If I Died On You" (originally by Karl Blau). The hair stands on my arms.</span> <br /></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-43259498613801441032023-05-11T20:51:00.001-04:002023-05-11T20:51:04.233-04:00the thusness of small things<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3bsIYM4qRIyy-FPw_2ag4gEL5D5PF2PL8PGy7MSW5axD7MWYu_A5YFsCGfGbvowbdEC0bAIUDQDyF6wXZ3kw7G70Q-BN9UBYDuEUwrZ4HjFU875B96GBPEvfoxheXlIVIxiUNZuCE0XBrSAxPP4RK8b2SdXnblAS-AYE-czqERaOkWYSG9lHVenv/s1440/turtle_DSC9648.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3bsIYM4qRIyy-FPw_2ag4gEL5D5PF2PL8PGy7MSW5axD7MWYu_A5YFsCGfGbvowbdEC0bAIUDQDyF6wXZ3kw7G70Q-BN9UBYDuEUwrZ4HjFU875B96GBPEvfoxheXlIVIxiUNZuCE0XBrSAxPP4RK8b2SdXnblAS-AYE-czqERaOkWYSG9lHVenv/s16000/turtle_DSC9648.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpb7uVq2GDExNg1oPAagNuKxe-x2SodH6C1ACHpPJ_Gx0HJEoa4bYsXmzbMPXDv_YTA3L7OvCNUr-HsVyZlywSf351cXQLzc16BId8ndVzx8FN-giXgGMr4i2ApPqF1J5-RS3O3xV86J_J7SGPx3QDPYa--gVnJZwgwhtNQMloJITKc5LUbyGqo2Rs/s1440/turtle_DSC9646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="955" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpb7uVq2GDExNg1oPAagNuKxe-x2SodH6C1ACHpPJ_Gx0HJEoa4bYsXmzbMPXDv_YTA3L7OvCNUr-HsVyZlywSf351cXQLzc16BId8ndVzx8FN-giXgGMr4i2ApPqF1J5-RS3O3xV86J_J7SGPx3QDPYa--gVnJZwgwhtNQMloJITKc5LUbyGqo2Rs/w265-h400/turtle_DSC9646.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-69399395529016875762023-01-28T22:03:00.001-05:002023-01-29T08:24:36.310-05:00rowan berries burning, even in winter<div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTO9H3YLDqq2lzuqD_HmzSBXZfM92SqMhs9eQBIV_TqVH4jTFpyo52AgXq83cU9jzVCQNcFKkxaOLL6qjfiKIz7nb6P60dpvsoFuA7Iju6g_74vlwHF2ACnMvCWn29iKG8sFHuDQzFFDMaoT15xGxY-fFPLN4ZXN0-DJ3exmQhVQN8ModusIwOVMo/s1440/rowan%20berries%20160_DSC9383%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTO9H3YLDqq2lzuqD_HmzSBXZfM92SqMhs9eQBIV_TqVH4jTFpyo52AgXq83cU9jzVCQNcFKkxaOLL6qjfiKIz7nb6P60dpvsoFuA7Iju6g_74vlwHF2ACnMvCWn29iKG8sFHuDQzFFDMaoT15xGxY-fFPLN4ZXN0-DJ3exmQhVQN8ModusIwOVMo/s16000/rowan%20berries%20160_DSC9383%203.jpg" /></a></div></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyKHpXRGHpZwqj3gkxjrD3N_BEmIKeeTYANimr17BuHjJTMKLO8DKVdSPq_TJvsHo7Xic-HzASRtLuC3TY7M21mHLoqafdBze1MXUpulRoH-_W3h2bcZuLVLGa4k2M4yl8KFIqjHM_2pQo8Up6of30GKOn-AaHWik2VTjX8z2ceLKO0kaRTb6iVq-/s1440/rowan%20berries160%20_DSC9402%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyKHpXRGHpZwqj3gkxjrD3N_BEmIKeeTYANimr17BuHjJTMKLO8DKVdSPq_TJvsHo7Xic-HzASRtLuC3TY7M21mHLoqafdBze1MXUpulRoH-_W3h2bcZuLVLGa4k2M4yl8KFIqjHM_2pQo8Up6of30GKOn-AaHWik2VTjX8z2ceLKO0kaRTb6iVq-/s16000/rowan%20berries160%20_DSC9402%204.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">With a red brush</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">The mountain-ash burned:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">The leaves were falling</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">And I was born.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">From a short three verse poem by Marina Tsvetaeva. (I would like to find a published English translation of this rowan berry poem. If anyone has a source, I'd be grateful to be made aware.)<br /></span></div><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-23315311102745484592022-10-15T14:08:00.000-04:002022-10-15T14:08:24.699-04:00"Saving Lives," from Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxD3C7s-DWrno1ebchwBva1OUh6zAB0cdKYKD2-OvKzTMsVvPsZRVdb-Q8kmLLzL74zxOGkUfULCuJN8ag4mw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-40078339246250474542022-10-10T09:21:00.002-04:002022-10-15T14:08:52.424-04:00Blue<div style="text-align: left;">One day away from the official launch of <i>Blue.</i> We will visit with our children for Canadian Thanksgiving. Thanks indeed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxMRqR9K1X5qXhLBQAlsKyukocZr8JnzYMsAcVTofPvciGB32kvkiO3g_nafvR5pyWYjjP37WqngJ0d42HsuA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> </div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-28603118858922691152022-10-03T07:34:00.003-04:002022-10-15T14:09:20.515-04:00Blue<div style="text-align: left;"> <br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://circlingrivers.com/books/blue-poems-by-erin-wilson/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZ5Y4kHPcm-5ay09Orhkh6SpYcJA2uldPIPj_zosMtZbdZtjtO0x83ETRg6sjl29-uOiRtnOGCbGA0_qD7mHwHrLWMyNkqgRICu6ix4szTQJlLWdVx8JbYXt2Z66cKZE0BOxvQ0uKxh_stff88arqRuQYQN6MGcwbx9KrJUMANNxB_wu5hxtotZvLMA/w265-h400/Wilson-Blue-Cover.jpg" width="265" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My second poetry collection, <i>Blue</i>, is now available! A collection about depression, grief and the transformative power of art. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My deepest gratitude to everyone who has helped in the creation of this collection, especially my two children.</span><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxrRktrkku0sgEaInQPi2wAKnyHdToHnWWEEFTp4HNmTapzlDjeWNkr2xi7BuUmNEjf5LUWUXwlPxWTI_-Row' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">[Writing
this book was a dangerous and vulnerable venture (for both myself and
my son), so why did I write it? 1. As Rilke wrote to his Polish
translator, Witold von Hulewicz, “...our task is to stamp this
provisional, perishing earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and
passionately, that its being may rise again, 'invisibly,' in us.” 2. To
prove to myself that value can come from grief, from sorrow. 3.<span> </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">To prove to my children that value can come from grief, from sorrow.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><span> </span></b></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">4.
Celan: “Your mother's soul hovers ahead. / Your mother's soul helps to
navigate night, reef after reef. / Your mother's soul whips on the
sharks at the bow...” To try to be the mother's soul. 5. As a way of
touching, being together, an intimacy, a solace. Yannis Ritsos, “I hide
beyond simple things so you'll find me; / if you don't find me, you'll
find the things, / you'll touch what my hand has touched, / our
hand-prints will merge.” 6. To create a record, one version. To
understand. To preserve. 7. Probably, also, to seal off—to create a new
beginning point for myself, my children. 8. Perhaps to offer something
of value to others. 9. Selfishly, to survive. 10. To strengthen my
bravery, so that I (and we) might move forward.]</span></span></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-14260423733285609712022-07-02T08:16:00.008-04:002022-10-15T14:10:36.409-04:00A Second Poetry Collection, Blue<div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbNYEltdnYtRJnT4NMNoGOGEnpngblCi1QTHT74cgy-TUvmtHJVhMSxAoJp7DMpKyvXymZZLRrXRCJI1JM2x0pGhm1J3OHQbOr3I7gjaATQgDQFycpbO0kRAW0U0rxa4fHrRgwfUui-MQwzwcrOviXVJUbMW8TwOQ3yIsC_3Z9GBSv1h49rV86Nzy/s1359/Wilson-Blue-cover-300dpi-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target=""><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbNYEltdnYtRJnT4NMNoGOGEnpngblCi1QTHT74cgy-TUvmtHJVhMSxAoJp7DMpKyvXymZZLRrXRCJI1JM2x0pGhm1J3OHQbOr3I7gjaATQgDQFycpbO0kRAW0U0rxa4fHrRgwfUui-MQwzwcrOviXVJUbMW8TwOQ3yIsC_3Z9GBSv1h49rV86Nzy/w265-h400/Wilson-Blue-cover-300dpi-1.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've
written a book. My second. And in a way, the writing of a book is
easier for me than asking for anyone to read or buy it. However, a
great deal of energy goes into the making of a book and not all of
the energy is mine. </span></span>
</p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
honour those people who are the subjects of the writing, to honour
those who are affected directly by the writing, to honour others who
suffer from depression or who love and support those who suffer from
depression, to honour the writers who have already spent time with
the book and endorsed it (Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, John Sibley
Williams, Emily Tristan Jones and Barton Smock), and to honour my
publisher (Jean Huets) who has believed in this work, I take this
moment to share with you this newest poetry collection that is
forthcoming in October of this year from Circling Rivers, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Blue</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Blue
</span></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">is
a journey of grief and healing, hope and determination. It is the
record of a child (my son) moving through depression toward
adulthood, and a mother's love, her need to redeem that which wounds.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>
</p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">Closer
to publication, I hope to share some audio of the poems with you and
perhaps (I hope hope hope) a piece of music written by my son with the
collection </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Blue</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">
in mind.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">If
you purchase <u>(<a href="https://circlingrivers.com/books/blue-poems-by-erin-wilson/">pre-order available now in the U.S. and Canada</a>)</u> the book, thank you. If you read
the book, thank you. If you </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>hear</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">
the book, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>receive</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">
the book, my deepest gratitude and tenderest understanding — in
this way, we are not alone. <br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: small;">(*Cover art, <i>Blue Heart</i>, Kathleen Loe.<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> If you'd like to touch base, you can reach me at thetinyleaf@gmail.com)</span></span></span><br /></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-65695563951965549842022-06-03T12:37:00.001-04:002022-06-03T12:38:51.598-04:00thinking silence<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> "When everything happens at once, no conflicts can occur."<br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3u4k8ktryiSesMSjR28Jjl_DLcPY3bWSKnARehu2iCsXjHGybt47HlyxQNJg7EuRG1CsF46i7gZK2BumZzDkMUJmY027dy98mtlnDJBeqXti0LqVVrZZekgBvfAPNKSmIbaeK1Qh8sqGu2mqwEbj_d-drFtsBhTWnLs7iioGIvbTDcx-BpEVWhAV-/s1440/milkweed%20160_DSC9004%202bl%20wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3u4k8ktryiSesMSjR28Jjl_DLcPY3bWSKnARehu2iCsXjHGybt47HlyxQNJg7EuRG1CsF46i7gZK2BumZzDkMUJmY027dy98mtlnDJBeqXti0LqVVrZZekgBvfAPNKSmIbaeK1Qh8sqGu2mqwEbj_d-drFtsBhTWnLs7iioGIvbTDcx-BpEVWhAV-/s16000/milkweed%20160_DSC9004%202bl%20wh.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyqpAlhamKAvjRwgqLyesOT0Tuq6Ui68ynsi8xVrKdW8TmGOLqV9nKMvkXNcL_kCRFdV9uDJeUIbaOvy_xdEqfnpB728QFbjxR1LVLRRpqzR3SYZghFEAhuDW-v1AVEaOH12FT_gQa3bAFKpxlER-50NJn6ZFuL5navqLhQVi2c2W8E-2UA5Nt5nW/s1440/milkweed%20160_DSC9014%20bl%20wh%20no%20v.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyqpAlhamKAvjRwgqLyesOT0Tuq6Ui68ynsi8xVrKdW8TmGOLqV9nKMvkXNcL_kCRFdV9uDJeUIbaOvy_xdEqfnpB728QFbjxR1LVLRRpqzR3SYZghFEAhuDW-v1AVEaOH12FT_gQa3bAFKpxlER-50NJn6ZFuL5navqLhQVi2c2W8E-2UA5Nt5nW/s16000/milkweed%20160_DSC9014%20bl%20wh%20no%20v.jpg" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-family: times;">from Hayden Carruth's "Of Distress Being Humiliated by the Classical Chinese Poets</span>"<br /></p>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-47434384119043785932022-03-15T21:10:00.001-04:002022-04-22T20:14:18.038-04:00thinking of Morandi's bottles (and Charles Wright)<p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7GYzMC8giqveEQZYZLOJDsw6Ct9-c6gspTufDJFiXhAkSw8636FyuZWpbgxO0t0OO-4knx_HhGfBtlOqljZh5JqSOu18p1LUmP4liWhFpZT5OjW2gRYBah9PluWrAThaFBfEgWoX9YsLRdQY_UdO3gCl8huugFrQcVAr4FVaIYPP6dj8mu0blko0I=s1440" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="955" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7GYzMC8giqveEQZYZLOJDsw6Ct9-c6gspTufDJFiXhAkSw8636FyuZWpbgxO0t0OO-4knx_HhGfBtlOqljZh5JqSOu18p1LUmP4liWhFpZT5OjW2gRYBah9PluWrAThaFBfEgWoX9YsLRdQY_UdO3gCl8huugFrQcVAr4FVaIYPP6dj8mu0blko0I=s16000" /></a></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Our lives, it turns out, are still-lifes, glass bottles and fruit,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dead animals, flowers, </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeGf14xvoM7DM-DZmcNt9YVRwcvWT8aSb5f6YdziSMoFYDdGFHR-UEXY0P_aV5OEosquVn4f-22jqfyFls8zz9oMHRDrIr9dRN7EkjX15Dph9pt9VNbaUGx6D0DioVmW3VUAMYeYohho/s1440/bottle+160_DSC8157+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="955" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeGf14xvoM7DM-DZmcNt9YVRwcvWT8aSb5f6YdziSMoFYDdGFHR-UEXY0P_aV5OEosquVn4f-22jqfyFls8zz9oMHRDrIr9dRN7EkjX15Dph9pt9VNbaUGx6D0DioVmW3VUAMYeYohho/s16000/bottle+160_DSC8157+2.jpg" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> the edges of this and that</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Which drop off, most often, to indeterminate vacancy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">We're beautiful, and hung up to dry...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCxP7Dxc1rPq2Lp1f6DQg9ofxQHRw_3ykjv1mTf0Lo3gAYmpZ4hjQK0ihhvUzI_lQxFTstUjyf9PzmnskpQuWFeKeFMOKAW7S7K9WQpuS7es3ZfNxJYEU2LO0_sfmev1T0s8HtZ4A7uI/s1440/bottle+160_DSC8156+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="955" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCxP7Dxc1rPq2Lp1f6DQg9ofxQHRw_3ykjv1mTf0Lo3gAYmpZ4hjQK0ihhvUzI_lQxFTstUjyf9PzmnskpQuWFeKeFMOKAW7S7K9WQpuS7es3ZfNxJYEU2LO0_sfmev1T0s8HtZ4A7uI/s16000/bottle+160_DSC8156+2.jpg" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">We don't know what counts—</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's as simple as that, isn't it,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> we just don't know what counts."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Charles Wright</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">from "Body and Soul"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-42533499275261443392021-06-20T16:47:00.004-04:002021-06-20T16:48:39.961-04:00the gift<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Q4HvpQEL1-fAmQQN8DfODlQF4KYjHJfpwLZAFaYlaqGxGlftK64gUkv1M-Po9eyc7x_p74Nm73rZfa7pfw306eIa8LBxJHE5TPa0S2d2f4VM1AuLB-EJwNYPO9Jb4bzKySkKSKwuF18/s1440/the+gift+160_DSC8279+2bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Q4HvpQEL1-fAmQQN8DfODlQF4KYjHJfpwLZAFaYlaqGxGlftK64gUkv1M-Po9eyc7x_p74Nm73rZfa7pfw306eIa8LBxJHE5TPa0S2d2f4VM1AuLB-EJwNYPO9Jb4bzKySkKSKwuF18/s16000/the+gift+160_DSC8279+2bl+wh.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_APgDKqpy8MU2Ec0Te8DjgcAF18KUYnjqH1sJwGC49_d2hnDiG8VRAFvkp3gai2KBA3aUSdWLWHjY7C6t_r-33Z0_7D3MF1JqWMp9TylgjzcuWSJnaK9qL1WqQ0j7f1swkpYVdSU1b0/s1440/the+gift+160_DSC8287+2+bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_APgDKqpy8MU2Ec0Te8DjgcAF18KUYnjqH1sJwGC49_d2hnDiG8VRAFvkp3gai2KBA3aUSdWLWHjY7C6t_r-33Z0_7D3MF1JqWMp9TylgjzcuWSJnaK9qL1WqQ0j7f1swkpYVdSU1b0/s1440/the+gift+160_DSC8287+2+bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6OFkzJI1xuprpbfnQ_i6yIDviZ0L_oCex-31_cX8LMrkpkpLJjhqko68EnLWmSe1d0UVy9QeUeLk_TV3DlA3vt5TUVi4AikOjVBJ_fLo2STTWKkqMg68fb6zPnQcGCKwaa6V4_nnKy8/s1440/the+gift+160_DSC8285+2+bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6OFkzJI1xuprpbfnQ_i6yIDviZ0L_oCex-31_cX8LMrkpkpLJjhqko68EnLWmSe1d0UVy9QeUeLk_TV3DlA3vt5TUVi4AikOjVBJ_fLo2STTWKkqMg68fb6zPnQcGCKwaa6V4_nnKy8/w400-h266/the+gift+160_DSC8285+2+bl+wh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_APgDKqpy8MU2Ec0Te8DjgcAF18KUYnjqH1sJwGC49_d2hnDiG8VRAFvkp3gai2KBA3aUSdWLWHjY7C6t_r-33Z0_7D3MF1JqWMp9TylgjzcuWSJnaK9qL1WqQ0j7f1swkpYVdSU1b0/w400-h266/the+gift+160_DSC8287+2+bl+wh.jpg" width="400" /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho76MEeevry9GYwS4VWarwQGQFYeJ5yecU0xGezy8ETaN_JnUy7KZiliYKCT1oWOMZfrMEKqiFWT6pu7B3uh7Gh0ijFKNoEbSE7zqYXUJu8hRnZnbV-s-w2ld7f4i98NRNDJTK6GmsiJo/s1440/the+gift+160_DSC8289+2+bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho76MEeevry9GYwS4VWarwQGQFYeJ5yecU0xGezy8ETaN_JnUy7KZiliYKCT1oWOMZfrMEKqiFWT6pu7B3uh7Gh0ijFKNoEbSE7zqYXUJu8hRnZnbV-s-w2ld7f4i98NRNDJTK6GmsiJo/w400-h265/the+gift+160_DSC8289+2+bl+wh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQID-_IpPZ0vpPqzkxo8qz3YQ6mecxEHgsBMwF34JLY7jMK_aaz_NzQn8Rfbt5kFPv6fEVx1eqq5yxo2xHz1jrQAg_XUCYg0DD9MZcZeZLSRY1Yzh5pNg31MzYyrHtDvczbR6wxArolI/s1600/the+gift+160_DSC8299+2bl+wh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQID-_IpPZ0vpPqzkxo8qz3YQ6mecxEHgsBMwF34JLY7jMK_aaz_NzQn8Rfbt5kFPv6fEVx1eqq5yxo2xHz1jrQAg_XUCYg0DD9MZcZeZLSRY1Yzh5pNg31MzYyrHtDvczbR6wxArolI/s16000/the+gift+160_DSC8299+2bl+wh.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">that which is small is not small</span></p><p><br /></p>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-14411223046939898282021-05-31T20:52:00.001-04:002021-05-31T20:53:16.250-04:00a persistence of colour<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOdvFbi0gsyMgc7Qmvf-wYr6PI_-kjmNAv-gZ-5Be4jKqvXQ76DsTmbYxnpy7eRPDMRlP82GYV7qICGLzBP7HhWgDKTQCQ2WlTVv16vQxG2FNQ9-XoYJfR1_MEEgzHBqod0_m7FqWuvk/s1578/_DSC8207+2cr+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1272" data-original-width="1578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOdvFbi0gsyMgc7Qmvf-wYr6PI_-kjmNAv-gZ-5Be4jKqvXQ76DsTmbYxnpy7eRPDMRlP82GYV7qICGLzBP7HhWgDKTQCQ2WlTVv16vQxG2FNQ9-XoYJfR1_MEEgzHBqod0_m7FqWuvk/s16000/_DSC8207+2cr+3.jpg" /></a></div><br />My intention in photographing the trillium was to get close to white on white, engage with a disappearance. And yet, here, with the trillium, a day after spending time with the works of Rothko, I can't help but be mesmerized by the ethereal nature, yet stubbornness of this colour.<br /><p></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 8px 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">“The recipe of a work of art – its ingredients – how to make it -the formula.</p><ol style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">There
must be a clear preoccupation with death – intimations of
mortality…Tragic art, romantic art, etc., deals with the knowledge of
death.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">Sensuality. Our basis of being concrete about the world. it is a lustful relationship to things that exist.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">Tension. Either conflict or curbed desire.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">Irony. This is a modern ingredient – the self-effacement and examination by which a man for instant can go on to something else.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">Wit and play…for the human element.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">The ephemeral and chance…for the human element.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box;">Hope.10%
to make the tragic concept more endurable. I measure these ingredients
very carefully when I paint a picture. It is always the form that
follows these elements and the picture results from the proportions of
these elements.”</li></ol><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 8px 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: right; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">M.Rothko’s „Address to Pratt Institute”, November, 1958.</i></p><p><br /><br /></p>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-13807158001693030052021-05-21T10:55:00.003-04:002021-05-21T11:09:03.524-04:00Canadian "cherry blossoms"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU08q1t5SaIuIbL1BieADwV9iGPXeCh__Regi7RE8RWE71BFTZh_nQr3y83c3LIVcsh6B6YEddecKXCd-tR860s5KkZT7bdUW09iNrin5x4EMuDIwE5IdRFL7rl7mRXsONwlH0g9xrwHE/s1440/maple+160_DSC8142+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="955" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU08q1t5SaIuIbL1BieADwV9iGPXeCh__Regi7RE8RWE71BFTZh_nQr3y83c3LIVcsh6B6YEddecKXCd-tR860s5KkZT7bdUW09iNrin5x4EMuDIwE5IdRFL7rl7mRXsONwlH0g9xrwHE/s16000/maple+160_DSC8142+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p>perhaps not quite as intoxicating as cherry blossoms, but (this far north) maple flowers are worthy of praise and meditation </p><p><br /></p><p></p>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-47392641676747190952021-05-13T09:57:00.001-04:002021-05-13T09:57:05.189-04:00against darkness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqjwaqdO8NHhQ1rchQSRwAIK2KfZKkKpLfnI48paWfkjR93w0pjYOE6SDs82tZS1FibVkvT9b0Py4XdihynivvBgJVWm2XOlXWeswq5ezdiQwVzzKDJZcfnPEBZsOBIDgHlzIPR28Fs4/s1440/_DSC8125+3+160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqjwaqdO8NHhQ1rchQSRwAIK2KfZKkKpLfnI48paWfkjR93w0pjYOE6SDs82tZS1FibVkvT9b0Py4XdihynivvBgJVWm2XOlXWeswq5ezdiQwVzzKDJZcfnPEBZsOBIDgHlzIPR28Fs4/s16000/_DSC8125+3+160.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How It Got Dark by Don McKay<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When the second stone</div><div style="text-align: left;">was cast, when Gatling</div><div style="text-align: left;">begat his gun, when to know</div><div style="text-align: left;">became to own—animals,</div><div style="text-align: left;">land, ideas, people;</div><div style="text-align: left;">when they piled the skulls</div><div style="text-align: left;">and posed for photographs, when</div><div style="text-align: left;">the fifth stone fell</div><div style="text-align: left;">like a schizophrenic star, like</div><div style="text-align: left;">an Airbus, like an angel</div><div style="text-align: left;">crashing into space-time;</div><div style="text-align: left;">when the red squirrel popped</div><div style="text-align: left;">out of the stew pot and</div><div style="text-align: left;">up a pine tree in a flash, then</div><div style="text-align: left;">paused to boast and scold us in that brash</div><div style="text-align: left;">staccato and I said that's it,</div><div style="text-align: left;">let's get the little bugger and picked</div><div style="text-align: left;">up the first stone.<br /></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-14190512303354892402021-04-08T13:23:00.003-04:002021-04-08T13:24:28.150-04:00a dictionary of all that is<div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eeQcv6L7-eGLGhIRYO3AIa2i3NOHXwO1wr7rNUE5x2yfRjN8cSXVlDVGrrajJ8sbZTWdqIybRi6PKQ0RGDY1IjUAqIag5CTkLc8Je7dzuWVuK8j5zofEFvOlnak1ephM_yOjnOUJBGk/s1440/Killarney+snag_DSC8023+2+full160.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eeQcv6L7-eGLGhIRYO3AIa2i3NOHXwO1wr7rNUE5x2yfRjN8cSXVlDVGrrajJ8sbZTWdqIybRi6PKQ0RGDY1IjUAqIag5CTkLc8Je7dzuWVuK8j5zofEFvOlnak1ephM_yOjnOUJBGk/s16000/Killarney+snag_DSC8023+2+full160.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="font-family: times;">From an interview with Stanley Kunitz (by Bill Moyers),</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="font-family: times;">Let me tell you about a twelfth-century Chinese poet named Yang Wan-li,
one of the four masters of Southern Sung poetry. One day he gathered his
disciples around him and addressed them in this fashion: "Now, what is
poetry? If you say it is simply a matter of words, I will say, 'A good
poet gets rid of words.' If you say it is simply a matter of meaning, I
will say, 'A good poet gets rid of meaning.' But, you say, if words and
meaning are gotten rid of, where is the poetry? To this I reply, 'Get
rid of words and meaning and there is still poetry.'"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">Scholars
have been wrestling with that test for centuries. I think that Yang is
telling us that poetry is more than a product of human intelligence and
craft. It is an intrinsic element of the beauty and mystery of
existence, something we take in with the air we breathe. We take it in
and then we give back some semblance of it in our art.</span></div></blockquote><div><span style="font-family: times;"></span></div></div>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-11778685252751728832021-03-27T11:02:00.000-04:002021-03-27T11:02:21.349-04:00a strong desire for the power to see trees or stone<p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGK7Dv_6BeEDBVN3XmIV9MTtSRkkruZqEq4ucPWf6jj_LZyRqs_CJ_j2llmOThPrCJZGPUPpd7r_BBUZAZwf0p7fxEWU-yrblKBQie0ClqJpcAoo9gkggMUbQ46sMQnlzUwmwrCE4WZQ8/s1440/_DSC7957+bl+wh+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGK7Dv_6BeEDBVN3XmIV9MTtSRkkruZqEq4ucPWf6jj_LZyRqs_CJ_j2llmOThPrCJZGPUPpd7r_BBUZAZwf0p7fxEWU-yrblKBQie0ClqJpcAoo9gkggMUbQ46sMQnlzUwmwrCE4WZQ8/s16000/_DSC7957+bl+wh+2.jpg" /></a></span></p><p id="yui_3_17_2_1_1616856998082_293"><span style="font-family: times;">Letter to a Poet by Robert Hass <br /></span></p><p id="yui_3_17_2_1_1616856998082_293"><span style="font-family: times;">A mockingbird leans<br />from the walnut, bellies,<br />riffling white, accomplishes</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">his perch upon the eaves.<br />I witnessed this act of grace<br />in blind California</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">in the January sun<br />where families bicycle on Saturday<br />and the mother with high cheekbones</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">and coffee-colored iridescent<br />hair curses her child<br />in the language of Pushkin–</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">John, I am dull from<br />thinking of your pain,<br />this mimic world</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">which make us stupid<br />with the totem griefs<br />we hope will give us</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">power to look at trees,<br />at stones, one brute to another<br />like poems on a page.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">What can I say, my friend?<br />There are tricks of animal grace,<br />poems in the mind</span></p><p id="yui_3_17_2_1_1616856998082_298"><span style="font-family: times;">we survive on. It isn’t much.<br />You are 4,000 miles away &<br />this world did not invite us.</span></p><p id="yui_3_17_2_1_1616856998082_298"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlJ_emfghsLsArUK-66m4IIr1KghC8kKC4oOITZT2lvbnEPNIbgAXj3hO4qGSNFxqO6I-QwFsxAuqsAxMkh5xsYlazQmTgGaIUviaYxlzMv1xGjkqzgdT9U0dgTZ2uY14QGOYnDgHfIg/s1440/_DSC6702+bl+wh+160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlJ_emfghsLsArUK-66m4IIr1KghC8kKC4oOITZT2lvbnEPNIbgAXj3hO4qGSNFxqO6I-QwFsxAuqsAxMkh5xsYlazQmTgGaIUviaYxlzMv1xGjkqzgdT9U0dgTZ2uY14QGOYnDgHfIg/s16000/_DSC6702+bl+wh+160.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Naming for Love by Hayden Carruth</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">These are the proper names:<br />
Limestone, tufa, coral rag,<br />
Clint, beer stone, braystone,<br />
Porphyry, gneiss, rhyolite,<br />
Ironstone, cairngorm, circle stone,<br />
Blue stone, chalk, box stone,<br />
Sarsen, magnesia, brownstone,<br />
Flint, aventurnine,<br />
Soapstone, alabaster, basalt,<br />
Slate, quartzite, ashlar,<br />
Clunch, cob, gault, grit,<br />
Buhrstone, dolomite,<br />
Flagstone, freestone, sandstone,<br />
Marble, shale, gabbro, clay,<br />
Adamant, gravel, traprock,<br />
And of course brimstone.<br /><br />
Some of the names are shapes:<br />
Crag, scarp, moraine, esker,<br />
Alp, hogback, ledge, tor, <br />
Cliff, boulder, crater,<br />
Gorge, and bedrock.<br /><br />
Some denote uses:<br />
Keystone, capstone,<br />
Hearthstone, whetstone,<br />
And gravestone.<br /><br />
For women a painful stone called <br />
Wombstone, which doctors say is <br />
"A calculus formed in the uterus."<br />
Gallstone and kidneystone hurt everyone.<br />
Millstone is our blessing.<br /><br />
I will not say the names <br />
Of the misnamed precious stones.<br /><br />
But a lovely name is gold, <br />
A product of stone.<br /><br />
Underwards is magma;<br />
May all who read this live long.</span><br /><br /></p>
<p></p>erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-86546954489199313232021-01-17T21:17:00.005-05:002021-01-17T21:18:08.140-05:00winter<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRA8EoK3h290cfH4H4t1_5Kya-D0CpqJlOt5kbiVyvctXnoo94XnffDQIc_I5Ee6Mk5gLG6inAtObgXOav9SDT1W7SejWJJ0NgNzgwv5kxLB5dIXuIrYpPQfQjCJcoGSD69-VDwnr2zpQ/s1352/_DSC7891+bl+wh+2cr2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRA8EoK3h290cfH4H4t1_5Kya-D0CpqJlOt5kbiVyvctXnoo94XnffDQIc_I5Ee6Mk5gLG6inAtObgXOav9SDT1W7SejWJJ0NgNzgwv5kxLB5dIXuIrYpPQfQjCJcoGSD69-VDwnr2zpQ/s16000/_DSC7891+bl+wh+2cr2.jpg" /></a></div><br />erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-38585172695856625572020-09-25T08:35:00.003-04:002020-09-25T10:34:57.819-04:00the young, also flying<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyUWiDjPDQui8v1iJ3kQ69nx3wR4xRAprJjZJ5kLdoANHto8DMy6U3V5p9F1XsoLuEVP39jGRtvVg4XUq0YeqQYifPW8NrsAwrnerG2Vx9Ex-NY6tUqQFo9ZT7W-6Jw8V-bHNdaciwYM/s965/the+young+flying+160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="965" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyUWiDjPDQui8v1iJ3kQ69nx3wR4xRAprJjZJ5kLdoANHto8DMy6U3V5p9F1XsoLuEVP39jGRtvVg4XUq0YeqQYifPW8NrsAwrnerG2Vx9Ex-NY6tUqQFo9ZT7W-6Jw8V-bHNdaciwYM/s16000/the+young+flying+160.jpg" /></a></div><br />erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-6696892317143525302020-09-07T19:56:00.000-04:002020-09-07T21:19:09.510-04:00goodbye <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-31504028039156423242020-08-16T08:11:00.003-04:002021-05-04T21:54:39.346-04:00"drawn to evening"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
The Knowledge of Light by Henry Rago<br />
<br />
<span>I<br />
<br />
The willow shining<br />
From the quick rain,<br />
Leaf, cloud, early star<br />
Are shaken light in this water:<br />
The tremolo of their brightness: light<br />
Sung back in light.<br />
<br />
II<br />
<br />
The deep shines with the deep.<br />
A deeper sky utters the sky.<br />
These words waver<br />
Between sky and sky.<br />
<br />
III<br />
<br />
A tree laced of many rivers<br />
Flows into a wide slow darkness<br />
And below the darkness, flowers again<br />
To many rivers, that are a tree.<br />
<br />
IV<br />
<br />
Wrung from silence<br />
Sung in lightning<br />
From stone sprung<br />
The quickening signs<br />
lines quivered<br />
Numbers flew<br />
<br />
Darkness beheld<br />
Darkness and told<br />
Each in each<br />
The depths not darkness.<br />
<br />
V<br />
<br />
To know<br />
Meaning to celebrate:<br />
Meaning<br />
To become “in some way”<br />
Another; to come<br />
To a becoming:<br />
To have come well.<br />
<br />
VI<br />
<br />
Earth Awakens to the work it wakens.<br />
<br />
These dancers turn half-dreaming<br />
Each to the other, glide<br />
Each from a pool of light on either side<br />
Below the dark wings<br />
And flutter slowly, come slowly<br />
Or drift farther again,<br />
Turn on a single note, lifted,<br />
And leap, their whirling lines<br />
Astonished into one lucidity:<br />
Multiples of the arc.<br />
<br />
Shapes of the heart!<br />
<br />
VII<br />
<br />
The year waits at the depth of summer.<br />
The air, the island, and the water<br />
Are drawn to evening. The long month<br />
Is lost in the evening.<br />
<br />
If words could hold this world<br />
They would bend themselves to one<br />
Transparency; if this<br />
Depth of the year, arch of the hour<br />
Came perfect to <br />
The curving of one word<br />
The sound would widen, quietly as from crystal,<br />
Sphere into sphere: candor<br />
Answering the child’s candor<br />
Beyond the child’s question.<br />
</span><br />
</div>
erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-25440932921753686742020-04-19T20:46:00.000-04:002020-04-19T20:47:21.722-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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milkweed</div>
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erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-10671603353678120692020-04-03T12:38:00.001-04:002020-04-03T12:43:30.105-04:00winter flowers viii.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Those
who do not see the flower are no different from barbarians, and those
who do not imagine the moon are akin to beasts. Leave barbarians and
beasts behind; follow the ways of the universe [nature] and return to nature." Basho, from <i>Japanese Aesthetics and Culture: <a href="https://books.google.ca/books?id=84TSBAAAQBAJ&pg=PA153&lpg=PA153&dq=%22those+who+do+not+see+the+flower+are+no+different+from+barbarians%22+basho&source=bl&ots=62m5uo2fzm&sig=ACfU3U3FoC5Q3usN5KQsc0O9Se8uQZmCCw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjfm5H118zoAhXLB80KHf9PCPgQ6AEwAnoECAsQKQ#v=onepage&q=%22those%20who%20do%20not%20see%20the%20flower%20are%20no%20different%20from%20barbarians%22%20basho&f=false">A Reader</a>,</i> edited by Nancy G. Hume</span><br />
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glads</div>
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deciding what and where colour is</div>
<br /></div>
erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-74746437142758148432020-03-30T14:51:00.001-04:002020-03-30T22:07:09.985-04:00winter flowers vii.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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glads</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="left: 89.0908px; top: 398.352px; transform: scaleX(0.979724);">“Color is the place </span></span><span style="left: 89.0908px; top: 419.185px; transform: scaleX(1.00586);"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">where our brain and the universe meet.” John Berger <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/beyond-the-black-box-the-revelation-of-cezanne-20111213-1ot00.html">quoting Cezanne</a>.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">deciding what and where colour is</span></span></div>
</div>
erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-35002721701834254172020-03-26T20:43:00.002-04:002020-04-21T20:06:52.929-04:00winter flowers vi.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The effect of color has real power....So much power that, in certain lights, it seems to become a substance. Once when I found myself in the chapel, I saw on the ground a red of such materiality that I had the feeling that the color was not the effect of light falling through the window, but that it belonged to some substance. This impression was reinforced by a particular circumstance: on the floor in front of me there was some sand in a little pile that the red was resting on. That gave me the effect of red powder so magnificent that I have never seen the like in my life." Matisse </span><br />
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glads</div>
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deciding what and where colour is</div>
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<b>Red Thought within a Gladiolus Blossom by James Owens</b><br />
<br />
<i>--after a photograph by erin wilson</i><br />
<br />
The image is a garden inside the garden.<br />
<br />
Eros as shimmer<br />
as blood unfurls<br />
through the wall of this wound<br />
that opens the air like a sex.<br />
<br />
The strokes of her looking<br />
breathe<br />
the petals to further opening and opening<br />
and un-<br />
fold<br />
membrane contour texture.<br />
Different wet reds shine.<br />
<br />
All this from dirt and sun and water<br />
dust the flower has healed<br />
sepal<br />
ovule<br />
anthers laden dark<br />
nudge of a cell upward<br />
any touch would soft to bursting<br />
and scatter sperm<br />
inside the four chambers of the stone.</div>
erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923874312985056562.post-48767324800251134842020-03-25T20:47:00.000-04:002020-03-30T15:57:42.499-04:00winter flowers v.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Thinking about color abstractly hasn't done me any good." Frank Stella</span><br />
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glads </div>
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<br />
deciding what and where colour is</div>
erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16636371927224076866noreply@blogger.com