Keeping Things Whole
In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing.
When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been.
We all have reasons for moving. I move to keep things whole. Mark Strand (b.1934)
pxite entry Unexpected
husband after cutting the grass
Too Much Heat, Too Much Work
It's the fourteenth of August, and I'm too hot To endure food, or bed. Steam and the fear of scorpions Keep me awake. I'm told the heat won't fade with Autumn.
Swarms of flies arrive. I'm roped into my clothes. In another moment I'll scream down the office As the paper mountains rise higher on my desk.
Oh those real mountains to the south of here! I gaze at the ravines kept cool by the pines. If I could walk on ice, with my feet bare! TU FU (712-770)
macro-day entry Hot
end of the day for the kayakers; after the storm that left weird light...taken from under the bridge
Nobody knows the age of the human race, but we all agree that it is old enough to know better. (see Dolce Vita )
pxite entry Sport
"The greatest among them may give away what they own in the name of compassion and goodness while never once uttering the word "God" out loud. Or they may do no more than than offer a smile or a hand to someone in need, or quietly bow their heads at a passing moment of beauty that passes through their lives, and say a simple prayer of gratitude to the spirit that created us all." excerpt from 'Small Graces' Ken Nerburn
taken at the river as the kayakers were coming in for the evening, and yelling at this young immigrant that he was fishing in a stupid place...in their way
I watched you on the wrong side of the river, waving. You were trying to tell me something. You used both your hands and sort of ran back and forth, as if to say look behind you, look out behind you. I wanted to wave back. But you began shouting and I didn't want you to think I understood. So I did nothing but stand still, thinking that's what to do on the wrong side of the river. After a while you did too. We stood like that for a long time. Then I raised a hand, as if to be called on, and you raised a hand, as if to the same question. Stanley Plumley (b.1939)
moody monday entry Dolce Vita
We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how? The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair; I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do To you and me; so take the lively air, And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know. What falls away is always. And is near. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go. Theodore Roethke
excerpt from 'The Song of Wandering Aengus' W.B. Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry on a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in the stream And caught a little silver trout.
photo tuesday entry Filter
photo friday entry Candid
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her babies cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and the children play: On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children. Tagore
"Life is not all novelty and freshness. It is old stone, old wood, old leather worn to the shape of our hands. What we have made familiar we have made our own, and it has made us who we are. We can move on, and oftentimes we should. Something better may await us. But those things we have shaped with our hands are our touch upon the world, whether it be a garden well tended, a book well used, a person well loved...And when we pass them on, the person who touches them will be touching us." Kent Nerburn
photo tuesday entry Absurd
excerpt from 'Laughing Down Lonely Canyons' James Cavenaugh
Fear corrodes my dreams tonight, and mist has grayed the hills, mountains seem too tall to climb, December winds are chill. There's no comfort on the earth, I am a child abandoned, Till I feel your hand in mine and laugh down lonely canyons.
moody monday entry High
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies-- Too bright, for our infirm Delight The Truth's surperb surprise As Lightning to the children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind-- Emily Dickenson
thursday challenge entry Container