At year's end

A year a month a day
a couple of hours [late]
three autumns
four seasons in sequence of non-
rudimental convictions.
Month in a week
day long[ed] hours dreadfully missed;
time still the only way
to gauge existence here
against the unsurmountable
notion of absence.

A year a month a day —
what kind of a difference make?
If any, or more.


Winter Solstice

"I hear
the tide turning. Last
eager wave over-
taken and pulled back
by first wave of the ebb."

— Denise Levertov

_ _ _

Winter rushed in last
on the crest of a full tide
veiled in mist whiter 
than snow blanketing the dirt
heavenly pure, predestined.

Happy December Solstice! Welcome Winter 2014!


Dream a dream

"The eye should learn to listen before it looks." — Robert Frank 



". . . and lean not on your own understanding;" ― Proverbs 3:5



Reminiscing forward

There are these words and things I mis[s]-
placed amidst hesitance and fear -
to seek uncovering onward


"Keeping things whole" (Mark Strand)

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 (1934 - 2014)


Fractal [e]scapes XIV ― [A]historical

“Sometimes you gotta go back to actually move forward. And I don’t mean going back 
to reminisce or chase ghosts. I mean go back to see where you came from, where you've been, 
how you got here. See where you are going . . .  
I know there are those who say, you can't go back. 
Yes, you can. Just have to look at the right place.

_ _ _

"A fixed image of the future is in the worst sense ahistorical." 
― Juliet Mitchell


Fractal [e]scapes VI ― Quasi-librium

_ _ _

"The distinction between the past, present and future
is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." ― Albert Einstein


Floating scenery

However distant now, the Sea once was here.
His absence steeped in the rigid waves of endless
rolling hills ― a mountainous sea all around
as far as the eyes can spread, obstinate to rest
on a taut string-line horizon, instead
skipping as a flat stone on the crest
of a stalled present, over the bare treetops
abandoned homes under thick moss-covered roofs
tucked in slivers of ancient wool[gatherings]-
like blossoms grappling to the age-
old slate ― the living always reaching skywards
towards the Sun, then, here, now
in this very moment this floating blue scenery
encompasses my entire existence
gushing like an open vein, flowing, fleeting
as Nature claims her own, takes it all back
to heal, to heal.

Then the Sea may return, perhaps.

_ _ _


"Everything begins somewhere else." (Juarroz)

_ _ _ 

Everything begins somewhere else.

It doesn't matter that some things
still remain here
and even end here:
here nothing begins.

Therefore this word, this silence,
this table, vase, your footsteps
were strictly speaking never here.

Everything is always somewhere else:
there where it begins.

― Roberto Juarroz
tr. by Mary Crow


Autumnal light bands

It's true. I chase
the fleeting iridescents ―
and loose myself in
absorbed, quietly.
I in them and you in me