Everyone Outdoors Talking

First day of spring, beginning a whole year of spring!
Everyone outdoors talking.

Rose to narcissus:
“Have you seen that ugly raven’s face?”

“No, he has no interest in us.”
“That’s good news!”

Pomegranate asks the apple tree for a peach.
“All you loafers down at that end of the orchard, you’re
always wanting peaches.”

“You’ve got to have a soul like Jesus
to be handed a peach!”

Inside this ordinary banter come messages from the source,
from absolute absence.

The plants stretch new wings in the sun.
Cloud and fog burn off. “Bless your heart.”
“That’s enough.”

Sun moves into Aries, permanently!
“Come see me.”
“I will.”
“I’d like that. But I can’t leave this.”

Ground soaked, sky full of candles.
Visions of fire and water alternating.

Drag your feet off the boat.
Look at him standing there.

I used to have mountain ranges inside my chest.
Now it’s smooth plain.

Grief lives between the cat paws.
You can say eek-eek or gehk-gohk,
but there’s no way to escape.

Throw this cloth-making equipment into the fire,
the alphabet spindle that’s stuck in your throat,
the cleft stick of your neck wrapped with thread.


Do you now live so that you are conscious of yourself as an individual; that in each of your relations in which you come into touch with the outside world, you are conscious of yourself, and that at the same time you are related to yourself as an individual?

Kierkegaard, S., and Douglas V. Steere. Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. Reprint ed. Lexington, Ky.: Feather Trail, 2009.

“In the midst of busyness, double-mindedness is to be found.”

Thus in the midst of busyness, double-mindedness is to be found. Just as the echo dwells in the woods, as stillness dwells in the desert, so double-mindedness dwells in the press of busyness. That the one who wills the Good only to a certain degree, that he is double-minded, that he has a distracted mind, a divided heart, scarcely needs to be pointed out. But the reason may need to be explained and set forth, why, in the press of busyness, there is neither time nor quiet to win the transparency that is indispensable if a man is to come to understand himself in willing one thing or even for a preliminary understanding of himself in his confusion. Nay, the press of busyness into which one steadily enters further and further, and the noise in which the truth continually slips more and more into oblivion, and the mass of connections, stimuli, and hindrances, these make it ever more impossible for one to win any deeper knowledge of himself. It is true, that a mirror has the quality of enabling a man to see his image in it, but for this he must stand still. If he rushes hastily by, then he sees nothing. Suppose a man should go about with a mirror in his possession which he does not take out, how should such a man get to see himself? In this fashion the busy man hurries on, with the possibility of understanding himself in his possession. But the busy man keeps on running and it never dawns upon him that this possibility which he has in his possession is rapidly fading from his memory. And yet one hardly dares say this to one of these busy ones, for however rushed he otherwise may be, yet upon occasion he has plenty of time for a multitude of excuses by the use of which he becomes worse than he was before: excuses whose wisdom is about the same as when a sailor believes that it is the sea, not the ship, that is moving.

Kierkegaard, S., and Douglas V. Steere. Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. Reprint ed. Lexington, Ky.: Feather Trail, 2009.


Sometimes I struggle to convey the paradoxes of voice unfolding within time without being pulled into contradictions and proxies of a linear trajectory of attention.