dig

Dig

  • a notion, now, bracketed and trellised

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    “a notion of the possible whose outlines were fuzzy and amorphous” (SH)

    Lucretius loved Epicurus, knew
    the world through him; his
    meaning was clear: love as a way
    of knowing, of assuming the known.

    To know is to narrate.
    People die trying to tell what
    it was like there then. Others
    die of not trying. The form of this
    telling is, for example,
    a trellis. A growth controlled
    unpredictable within measure.

    Trellis. Tri licium. three threads.
    The weaver knows
    through the fingers the way worlds
    hold together. Basket makers.
    The shadow of a trellis is filled
    against itself, against measure.
    See the sun try again to
    stop the movement of the rose

    climbing among the woven ways.

    Making It Up as You Go Along , Bin Ramke

  • So sung a little Clod

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    “Love seeketh not itself to please,
    Nor for itself hath any care,
    But for another gives its ease,
    And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.”

    So sung a little Clod of Clay
    Trodden with the cattle’s feet,
    But a Pebble of the brook
    Warbled out these metres meet:

    “Love seeketh only self to please,
    To bind another to its delight,
    Joys in another’s loss of ease,
    And builds a Hell in Heaven’s despite.”

    The Clod and the Pebble, William Blake

  • AG2026_1233605a or get up and go outside

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    To be free is to need some fresh air
    and to be able to get up and go outside

    Don’t say we didn’t warn you

    The Following Scan Will Last Four Minutes, Lieke Marsman, Translated from the Dutch by Sophie Collins

    Miami reached 100F this afternoon for only the second time since 1895. This ties the all-time high temperature record last reached in 1942. (weather.gov)

  • You wake amid bursts of darkness

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    AG2026_1233591a

    You wake amid bursts of darkness

                      you come back from the vast sleep that holds you
                  tighter than my arms, each evening
                  I bare myself and abandon you
                  to the night’s tall grasses.

                  The hours that create us
                  separate us, and I give you up
                  until dawn comes to dissolve absence.

    From “Hearts, Books of Love” [“You wake amid bursts of darkness”], Hélène Dorion, Translated from the French by Susanna Lang

  • One small, sensuous catastrophe

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    AG2026_1233604a

    Moved out of 11U. Occupant of 27; amenable to auspicious oscillations.

    Mary Heilmann.

    One small, sensuous catastrophe
    makes inklings letters, spelled in a worldly tremble.

    Mona Van Duyn

  • which are the leaves / and which the angels (LC)

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    AG2026_1233599a

    it is the hard
    edge of things
    i am avoiding
    the separations
    so that i can take my glasses off
    and then i cannot tell
    which are the leaves
    and which the angels
    like blake
    like that man
    who lived with the lepers
    not noticing what was sin
    and what was grace
    visioning visions vision
    i take my glasses off
    so i can see

    i take my glasses off, Lucille Clifton

  • a field and a procession

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    AG2021_1970503-1

    in the dream of foxes
    there is a field
    and a procession of women
    clean as good children
    no hollow in the world
    surrounded by dogs
    no fur clumped bloody
    on the ground
    only a lovely line
    of honest women stepping
    without fear or guilt or shame
    safe through the generous fields.

    a dream of foxes, Lucille Clifton

  • AG2026_1233590a or exquisite frail green

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    One night I wandered alone from my comrades’ huts;
    The grasshoppers chirped softly
    In the warm misty evening;
    Bracken fronds beckoned from the darkness
    With exquisite frail green fingers;
    The tree gods muttered affectionately about me,
    And from the distance came the grumble of a kindly train.

    I was so happy to be alone,
    So full of love for the great speechless earth,
    That I could have laid my cheek in the wet grasses
    And caressed with my lips the hard sinewy body
    Of Earth, the cherishing mistress of bitter lovers. 

    A Moment's Interlude, Richard Aldington