
When we live we occupy a certain space.
And when we don't live?
~~~~
Crow, blue, yellow...no colour comes for you this day. Rooted to the night, your cold eye stares like a star into the abyss. Love alone., The great strength that comes from the harshness of your claws; the great weakness from the harshness of your heart. I must remember to forget. The world that flutters inside you comes from a single word she says.,
~~~
Crow, blue, yellow...no colour comes for you this day. Rooted to the night, your cold eye stares like a star into the abyss. Love alone., The great strength that comes from the harshness of your claws; the great weakness from the harshness of your heart. I must remember to forget. The world that flutters inside you comes from a single word she says.,
~~~
The soul stands in the presence of its God in awful isolation.
The terrible distance of "its"
~~~~~
Why do you say 'we' when there is me, you, the world and all that time in-between?
~~~
You resisted the "polytheism of experience", favouring a puritanical soul instead. For you happiness was a pagan concept. But this black theological coat, how heavily it weighs on your shoulders. Growing more heavy, taking on lightness.
~~~
night
needs no stars
nowhere are you asked after.
~~~~
Linked in the chain
between Gold and Forgetting
Night.
~~~~~
blacker in black, am I more naked
apostate only am I true
Ich bin du, wenn ich ich bin.
(I don't understand German. Don't ask).
~~~
In the springs of your eyes
I drift on and dream of spoils
A net snared a net
embracing we sever.
Celan.
~~~~~
You saw an image form, and stood in the shade. Found a kind of peace there. Held your breath (or died) and looked in many directions. Some laws are binding. Black searching-out the gold, a light that would gently burn so that departures would be muffled, soft as ash. The strangeness of it all. A dream I can't remember. Together alone.
~~~
With all my thoughts I went
right out of the world:
there you were,
you my gentle one,
you my open one.
---G. Hill.
---G. Hill.
1 comment:
this is one of my favourite photos ever. and the lines by Hill, oh - it's not the first time i read them here, but they enchant me as the first time. how strange, this fascination - certainly something for the crow to ponder. or no? :-)
hi b :-)
Post a Comment