Cosmographical world of mortals
May 2012
In the Conservatory (Four Season room)
Shenandoha
Olds 1929
Chevrolet
Plymouth
Ford
Pontiac Firebird
Cadillac
Cheavy 1939
Ford
Pontiac GTO
REO
Michigan Avenue
The heron
Bed room
To the moon
Self-portrait
Before the rain
Going to Walden Pond
This is the way to wash the clothes
Night Walk
Arthur Schopenhauer
Lost in the forest
Music of silence
Desert Places
Church Yard
The Elephant in the Boa Constrictor
Beddgelert
Parking lot - reflection
A street in Criccieth
Communipaw Terminal (Ellis Island)
£1,000 GUARANTEE OF PURITY
Fence
Starlake Redheads
Newyork
Spider flower - Cleome
Magnolia
Drop
Keywords
Authorizations, license
-
Visible by: Everyone -
All rights reserved
-
133 visits
I Sit by the window
You sit in a chair, touched by nothing, feeling
The old self become older self, imagining
Only the patience of water, the boredom of a stone.
You think that silence is the extra page,
You think nothing is good or bad, not even the
Darkness that fills the house while you sit watching
It happen. You’ve seen it happen before. Your friends
Move past the window their face soiled with regret.
You want to wave but cannot raise your hand.
You sit in a chair, you turn to the night shade spreading
A poisonous net around the house. You taste
The honey of absence. It is the same wherever
You are, the same if the voice rots before
The body, or the body rots before the voice.
You know that desire leads only to sorrow, that sorrow
Leads to achievements which leads to emptiness.
You know that this is different, that this
Is a celebration, the only celebration
That by giving yourself over to nothing,
You shall be healed. You know that there is joy in feeling
Your lungs prepare themselves for an ashen future,
so you wait, you stare and wait, and the dust settles
And the miraculous hours of childhood wander in darkness
“In celebration” ~ Mark Strand
The old self become older self, imagining
Only the patience of water, the boredom of a stone.
You think that silence is the extra page,
You think nothing is good or bad, not even the
Darkness that fills the house while you sit watching
It happen. You’ve seen it happen before. Your friends
Move past the window their face soiled with regret.
You want to wave but cannot raise your hand.
You sit in a chair, you turn to the night shade spreading
A poisonous net around the house. You taste
The honey of absence. It is the same wherever
You are, the same if the voice rots before
The body, or the body rots before the voice.
You know that desire leads only to sorrow, that sorrow
Leads to achievements which leads to emptiness.
You know that this is different, that this
Is a celebration, the only celebration
That by giving yourself over to nothing,
You shall be healed. You know that there is joy in feeling
Your lungs prepare themselves for an ashen future,
so you wait, you stare and wait, and the dust settles
And the miraculous hours of childhood wander in darkness
“In celebration” ~ Mark Strand
- Keyboard shortcuts:
Jump to top
RSS feed- Latest comments - Subscribe to the comment feeds of this photo
- ipernity © 2007-2025
- Help & Contact
|
Club news
|
About ipernity
|
History |
ipernity Club & Prices |
Guide of good conduct
Donate | Group guidelines | Privacy policy | Terms of use | Statutes | In memoria -
Facebook
X
Sign-in to write a comment.