Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Sunday, June 1, 2014
A Word
I
used to think when I turned thirty I would become a writer.
Thirty
passed.
I
wrote here then, daily. Poems. Essays. Words like leaves on a page curling, turning over in the wind.
I wrote before that, too. Decades before: shelves, walls, boxes of words.
I
didn't know what blogger meant. Monetize, followers,
trolls.
And
then erasure happened.
It
swept.
My
knees became my feet, my eyes like the closing flowers,
unseen.
I have dwelt in caves dripping.
Time has passed. The sun is higher.
I write.
I want you to know I am still writing.
I want you to know I am still writing.
Yes,
my answer will always be yes,
I
am writing.
Image: John Bridges, Embrace
Text: Terresa Wellborn
Labels:
always yes,
John Bridges,
poetry,
the chocolate chip waffle,
the written word,
words,
writing,
yes
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
My Own Desert Places
"For the desert is simply that:… an ecstatic form of disappearance."-Jean Baudrillard
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"You don’t need me. What you really need is a mirror. Because any stranger is for you simply a mirror in which to reflect yourself. I don’t ever again want to return to such a desert of mirrors."-Kōbō Abe
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
You are there
for an instant Blue desert
with dunes of rain Thirst is granted
Space is a breach You burn in the night
whose walls are down I see by your oil
by the wick in the middle where a flame blossoms
for an instant Blue desert
with dunes of rain Thirst is granted
Space is a breach You burn in the night
whose walls are down I see by your oil
by the wick in the middle where a flame blossoms
-Edmond Jabès, excerpt from “After the Deluge,” If There Were Anywhere but Desert: The Selected Poems of Edmond Jabès
Image: Max Scheler, Art Class for Retired Ctizens, Sun Valley, Arizona, 1962Title: Robert Frost, “Desert Places”
Labels:
art,
deserts,
Edmond Jabès,
Jean Baudrillard,
Kōbō Abe,
Max Scheler,
mirrors,
Robert Frost,
the desert,
writing
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