Mammal Muse
A friend brought this video to my attention, saying
"He does it for wholeness."
Here it is for anyone who missed it.
http://youtu.be/H6ZqKmaN2qw
Prose Poem
(untitled)
One blue planet suspended in space - the smell of plants in a garden - air shifts - colors of sky - taste of dirt - vertigo as earth rotates and spins. The way perception proposes that sun is passing, or moon rising - how gravity holds me here, thoughts still popping like hot tarts from my mind oven - always cooking up, or stirring some brew of memory and conjecture.
Then a moment when, so entirely consumed that tyranny is suspended, the sands of time run out.
Then a moment when, so entirely consumed that tyranny is suspended, the sands of time run out.
I live for that.
5 comments:
so glad you posted the 'sand dancer'. now if i want to get back to it, i know where to find it. and that poem...so many wonderful visuals but i wonder about those last 2 lines.
What do you wonder?
sounds like you are waiting for time to run out? or am i misreading it?
Oh--well, although having to explain suggests to me that I have left too much to interpretation, I am inclined to think that such is inevitable with the written word. None the less--the poem suggests that the churning mind stops at certain moments, and at such times the tyranny of time bound thought runs out. I live for that, but am not waiting. it's the sort of 'consummation' greatly desired that simply happens. It can not be forced, scheduled or planned for. it's a gift.
i'm not good at interpreting. it has nothing to do with your writing. i now understand.
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