notes to self during:
thought of cinderella(misled by memory)
meaning vasilissa and psyche sorting the seeds
the tasks of women,
sifting the good from the bad,
the moths from the rice
and uses from others,
flax from oats
poppy from rice
we sort and sift
and hold onto that one careful handful of grain
or
that
sweet
perfect grey
stone
deep
in the pocket
for the precise moment when it fits
click
click
click
clunk
shift
(my watch sits pocketed too)
a tiny tic of impatience
suggests boredom with my task
then
it passes
shift, shift,
pluck,
set
set
set
one satisfactory moment followed by another
holding one perfect stone
and then another
another
shifting
a parcel of stones
clitter clack
resonance of the river
where woolf slipped stone upon stone in her (enormous) pockets
and slipped herself in the eddies.
giving up on shifting those slippery words into meaning.
her sorting done.
chaff floating in the breeze
the task lost
*when editing this, grain caught my attention and reminded me of this heart wrenching story recently in the NYTimes . . . at least Vasilissa had her doll.
9 comments:
She finally speaks! And it soft, sweet, and beautiful.
this is beautiful. its nice you are back.
why V. Woolf I am thinking; what massive pockets she had, I think her mind (perception/memory/interiority) was the massive pocket.
Maybe her mind tells us, through her words, some of her "ideas" about death and dying... about the burden of brillance; the burden (of PERCEIVING--deeply Through and in-to "language" which perhaps IS constructed world in so many ways)
...the burden of trying to say inward things. [i am rambling]. :) {forgive me}
On sifting... doesn't
Someone need Grace to sort the (psyche)seeds? We can not manage it all with conscious mind.
Soon when if possible read Woolf's "Moments of Being".
She talks about war and planning suicide...and she is alive in her book; all voice.
Thank you for taking us on this poetic sorting journey. Sorting is a thing I love to do. It is my way of practising using my gut instead of my head. I love the sounds you have evoked.
Hooray - you are back!
thank you Liz, it was wonderful being with you yesterday.
mansuetude, thank you, your ramblings are exciting to read and provoke my thought along:
I think about the artist pocket mind a lot. The way we perceive the world, picking bits of it up, examining carefully, and storing it for later. The storage, a time of percolation (that space between collecting and creating), is an alchemy. The collected, rubbing against one another depositing meaning on its neighbor. And weight, of course, plays its own role, how can we express the inward? Can we lessen the burden of our ideas, if only to record in that one moment who we were before we shift into something else. Grace comes to visit, helps the choice, she approves your work. Ah, but our creations have lives too you know, and not always faithful ones. That poppyseed I set aside to show you has bloomed already.
(I've rambled on yet another track, apologies) I'll find "moments of being", thank you.
kate, gut over mind sorting tends to get to the heart of the matter somehow. Thank you for listening.
Lasuza, I am back! Missed it and you all while I was away, I have swiftly germinating seeds to show soon.
harmaa on kaunis
grey is beautiful
Just went through all your pages and i must say... i think you are an inspiring artist!
your "ramblings" are beautiful, like a rose bush a'tangling... :)
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