Tuesday, November 29, 2011

where the river is lost in the lake

the meeting of water and water is about silence
we let silence sway on its stem in our mouths

cold daylight a silver wire drawn through the air
what sounds there are hold their shapes

five ducks skim their images
the blur blur of their wings wakes into distance

the moment comes and dissolves
the moment comes and dissolves

at the edge of things a pulse of small waves
the floating dock grieves against its moorings



  1. What beautiful country up there. Did you go there recently?

  2. is this what you saw??? this is what you saw!!! (i got the rare gift of witnessing you seeing(?) what mystery resides inside of this!)

    how is it then that at the point of dissolution everything both dissolves and is born? huh? (this is exciting!)

    the floating dock grieving. jesusgod! grieving against its moorings. oh.

    i find the progression of shots interesting, the first shot so literal in what we see with our eyes, the second shot the dissolution, the third shot a solid strike as an embodiment of something else. i am partial to the third shot, although there are days when the second shot would call.


  3. I came quietly and will leave quietly.

  4. musicwithinyou: It is beautiful there. And these pictures are nothing extraordinary -- it seems you only have to point the camera out a window and click, anywhere you look....

  5. erin: i think i am always always at that moment of (un)balance, disappearing and pushed to the edge of birth -- and of course this has been especially true these past few weeks ... it was a day when all the forces of nature seemed to open with a kind of welcome ....

  6. Ruth: i am so glad to see you here. welcome!

    the world ripples around us. sometimes we see other worlds between the little waves. sometimes this world is the other world

  7. This has to be one of my most favourite posts of yours, ever. The poem is utterly delicious.

    "cold daylight a silver wire drawn through the air"
    "the blur blur of their wings wakes into distance"
    "the floating dock grieves against its moorings"

    If I had come up with any of these 3 lines I'd be over-the-moon.

    The photographs are stunning, I'm keeping the third one. :) I've probably been watching too much Wallander and reading too much Transtromer but both the pictures and poem put me so much in mind of the stark and cold serenity of the Swedish landscape and the your poem like Transtromer's powerful little poems with breath-taking images.