Two things I read this morning seemed just right for the moment, day, time.
1. From July's issue of Asymptote, Jose Eugenio Sanchez's poem 'czeslaw milosz gets off the train at fuengirola', these lines:
there was nothing on earth that I wanted
as if I existed only for the perishing of land and men
there is no witchcraft in my words
I speak silent as a cloud
or tree
2. Next, from Sheridan Hay's The Secret of Lost Things, very early on in the book (page 15-16 to be precise):
The orange, red and yellow heads worked against melancholy; their unopened leaves, like little green tongues, reproached me. I picked a few red ones, Mother's favourite colour, and put them on top of the box.
I knelt down to inspect a large, open leaf, almost a perfect circle. A silver drop of water balanced on its surface, shiny as a ball of mercury. Carefully, I picked the leaf and spun the bead of water inside its green world - a tiny ball of order, isolated and contained. Focusing on the drop relieved an increment of anguish, about the same size, near my heart.
"Help me," I prayed to the water drop. "I want Mother. I want it all back. I want my life."
1. From July's issue of Asymptote, Jose Eugenio Sanchez's poem 'czeslaw milosz gets off the train at fuengirola', these lines:
there was nothing on earth that I wanted
as if I existed only for the perishing of land and men
there is no witchcraft in my words
I speak silent as a cloud
or tree
2. Next, from Sheridan Hay's The Secret of Lost Things, very early on in the book (page 15-16 to be precise):
The orange, red and yellow heads worked against melancholy; their unopened leaves, like little green tongues, reproached me. I picked a few red ones, Mother's favourite colour, and put them on top of the box.
I knelt down to inspect a large, open leaf, almost a perfect circle. A silver drop of water balanced on its surface, shiny as a ball of mercury. Carefully, I picked the leaf and spun the bead of water inside its green world - a tiny ball of order, isolated and contained. Focusing on the drop relieved an increment of anguish, about the same size, near my heart.
"Help me," I prayed to the water drop. "I want Mother. I want it all back. I want my life."
there was nothing on earth that I wanted
as if I existed only for the perishing of land and men
there is no witchcraft in my words
I speak silent as a cloud
or tree
- See more at: http://www.asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=225&curr_index=15&curPage=current#sthash.oGrKiJjD.dpuf
as if I existed only for the perishing of land and men
there is no witchcraft in my words
I speak silent as a cloud
or tree
- See more at: http://www.asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=225&curr_index=15&curPage=current#sthash.oGrKiJjD.dpuf
José Eugenio Sánchez
José Eugenio Sánchez
czeslaw milosz gets off the train at fuengirola
- See more at:
http://www.asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=225&curr_index=15&curPage=current#sthash.oGrKiJjD.dpufJosé Eugenio Sánchez
czeslaw milosz gets off the train at fuengirola
- See more at:
http://www.asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=225&curr_index=15&curPage=current#sthash.oGrKiJjD.dpufJosé Eugenio Sánchez
czeslaw milosz gets off the train at fuengirola
- See more at:
http://www.asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=225&curr_index=15&curPage=current#sthash.oGrKiJjD.dpuf
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