Gray morning, coast to coast--or at least our little part of it. Churning thoughts: first, man's inhumanity to man. A guy in an alligator suit, somewhere in Florida. Go 'gators. But what about us gators? Not to mention Paul Watson, on the Farley Mowat--gold braids and the black flag of a pirate, careening across the southern oceans. Eye of a wounded whale--true and massive compassion--in the Buddhist sense--or is it some larger intelligence that can (finally) bypass vengeance? As in territory, as in unbendingness. Reeds in the wind: the ancient Sung dynasty painting--Early Snow on the River--fishermen in their matted huts, built on spindly piers out over gray water. The wet and the cold. To find some appropriate interchange with the universe. For what IS modesty but a need for the private--and a willingness to listen.
No truth in ideas, however golden. The materials are all...
(for L)
No comments:
Post a Comment