Been working a lot on the house the past week, moving furniture around, making preparations to renovate the rear addition, catching up on cleaning.
Dusting off photos of old friends who I haven't seen in months...there's some kind of symbolism there. "The mind is like a bright mirror in a stand, take care to keep it free of dust.", the old Buddhist poem.
Dust piles up on the photos in their frames
Faces of friends, some long unseen
Are hidden and dimmmed
Though memory is always bright
Memory is always bright
Zelda's exercises:
1) long sentence poem
As the summer draws
to its inevitable
(indeed, in some sense, desirable)
conclusion and the autumn starts
to prepare itself
like an actor in the wings, waiting for his cue -
a lighting cue, the days shortening,
but the nights, the glorious velvet nights, growing -
we settle in to ourselves
and our homes
and our routines
and our silence
like the sun settles in the night
and the leaves settle to the ground
and the sap settles in the roots
and the quiet settles on the land;
a quiet in which we can at last, perhaps
hear the small still voices that whisper truths
of impermanence and change and flux and flow,
the voices we try so hard to block out
all the rest of the year.
2) wordlist - theme: weird
touching the balance point for
just an instant
the center of duality
the floating at the top of the arc
a point from which a thousand thousand bizarre possibilities flow
paths of intrigue
roads of love
curves of danger
lines of descent
waves of ecstasy and agony
through an n-dimensional space
at the heart of which is a zero point
where stillness comes to rest