yelling to buy variously coloured & shaped objects.
Both the faces and the objects all
are scientifically proven to be more
space than solid, more empty than full.
For work, at another black-framed rectangle fingers
ribbon words marching black to a white screen.
For play you hold rectangles longways
and turn their pages, words flowing
across your eyes & freeforming blue, orange.
Like a swimmer into the water you
sometimes sit silent & carve out into the round &
for beauty you follow long golden fingers
(if you can see them) stretching out into
the silent terror of nullius.
There, every colour & shape, &
Rumi and his field have squeezed through
a just-right chink and sung themselves out
into the beautiful void of
everything, turned to white.
 |
| Pic: monkeyc.net under creative commons licence |
These words fill me. Thanks, Sue. Reminds me a little of Gerard Manley Hopkins, with all the free-flowing, wild imagery.
ReplyDeletelooks like creative 'growth' to me ;-)
ReplyDeleteSue, your nullius, and squeezingthrough the chink !! fabulous !!brought back a memory from a couple of days ago, (I might have forgotten, except your post)I was climbing down a long steep stairway, from an elevated garden to the street below, and I saw there were slats of transparent plexiglass pinning inthe plants where they bordered the stairwell,but, there were also small open crevices between the plates of plexi, and the bees seemed to know exactly where these were and were making use of them quite effectively to enter and exit the garden
ReplyDeleteAww, thank you, Harry. Pretty cool to read that this feeds you :)
ReplyDeleteHeh, yeah :) It's funny how sometimes growth just feels numb. Some often we can't really seem to know what's going on till we look back.
ReplyDeleteTenar, your COMMENT is fabulous :) I love reading about other people's experience of those moments. The ... I don't know, I was going to say wanky poser words like "numinosity" or "transcendence" - they're what I mean, and I can't think of anything to replace them ...
ReplyDeleteThose moments, they seep through the words on the page ... well, like honey, eh. Bees, they do rock.