20.8.17
9.2.17
21.1.17
drawing
a drawing on a paper cup that I have now flattened out. I was on a train with my EE pencil....
30.11.16
9.2.16
walking through gates and doors
Excerpts from “Gravel” in the book The Leaf and The Cloud
by
Mary Oliver
Death, whoever and whatever you are, tallest king of
tall kings, grant me these wishes: unstring my bones;
let me be not one thing but all things, and wondrously
scattered; shake me free from my name. Let the wind, and
the wildflowers, and the catbird never know it. Let
time loosen me like the bead of a flower from its wrappings
of leaves. Let me begin the changes, let me—
tall kings, grant me these wishes: unstring my bones;
let me be not one thing but all things, and wondrously
scattered; shake me free from my name. Let the wind, and
the wildflowers, and the catbird never know it. Let
time loosen me like the bead of a flower from its wrappings
of leaves. Let me begin the changes, let me—
…
The gravels of the world,
the stones of the world
are in their proper places.
the stones of the world
are in their proper places.
…
Everything is participate.
Everything is a part of the world
we can see, taste, tickle, touch, hold onto,
Everything is a part of the world
we can see, taste, tickle, touch, hold onto,
and then it is dust.
Dust at last.
Dust and gravel.
Dust at last.
Dust and gravel.
…
Goodbye
to the goldfinches
in their silver baskets.
in their silver baskets.
…
Goodbye to the moon uprising in the east.
Goodbye to the going forth, and coming home.
Goodbye to the going forth, and holding on, and worrying.
Goodbye to the engine of breath.
Goodbye to the going forth, and coming home.
Goodbye to the going forth, and holding on, and worrying.
Goodbye to the engine of breath.
The knee sings its anguish.
The ears fill with the sound of ringing water.
The muscles of the eyes pull toward sleep.
The ears fill with the sound of ringing water.
The muscles of the eyes pull toward sleep.
…
Slowly
up the hill,
like a thicket of white flowers,
forever is coming.
up the hill,
like a thicket of white flowers,
forever is coming.
….
It is the
nature of stone
to be satisfied.
It is the nature of water
to want to be somewhere else.
to be satisfied.
It is the nature of water
to want to be somewhere else.
Everywhere we look:
the sweet guttural swill of the water
tumbling.
Everywhere we look:
the stone, basking in the sun,
the sweet guttural swill of the water
tumbling.
Everywhere we look:
the stone, basking in the sun,
or offering itself
to the golden lichen.
to the golden lichen.
…
Listen,
I don’t think we’re going to rise
in gauze and halos.
Maybe as grass, and slowly.
Maybe as the long-leaved, beautiful grass
in gauze and halos.
Maybe as grass, and slowly.
Maybe as the long-leaved, beautiful grass
….
I look up
into the faces of the stars,
into their deep silence.
into the faces of the stars,
into their deep silence.
…
This the poem of goodbye.
And this is the poem of don’t know.
And this is the poem of don’t know.
My hands touch the lilies
then withdraw;
then withdraw;
my hands touch the blue iris
then withdraw;
then withdraw;
and I say, not easily but carefully—
the words round in the mouth, crisp on the tongue—
the words round in the mouth, crisp on the tongue—
dirt, mud, stars, water— I know you as if you were myself.
How could I be afraid?
The Leaf and The Cloud is really one
long 50 page poem.
22.8.15
18.7.15
world listening day h2o part 2
mixing in an overlaid way the rural and the urban
rain in July under an umbrella that I use for sun or rain
rain in July under an umbrella that I use for sun or rain
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