Sunday, May 15, 2016

Seeing



Dinner on the deck: grilled salmon, grilled potatoes in olive oil, Caesar's salad, and a Chardonnay.  Oh, and a tiny succulent.

Succulents are big this year for some reason.  I see them everywhere.  Maybe they have always been there and I am just now seeing them.  That is the way with most things.  Vision.  It is a complicated process.  The eye sees what it is programmed to see.  It misses most of the rest.

Paying attention to the world is difficult except when we travel, but even then.  I once travelled to Mexico with an architect, a biologist, and a developer.  When we looked out across the landscapes, we all reported on different things.  Shapes, colors, ecotypes, opportunity.

I am still trying to redevelop my vision.  Give me some time.

2 comments:

  1. Succulents are very trendy. Sort of like Kendall Jenner.

    I've become somewhat enamored of Charles Simic's prose poems. Well, as of last night when I found a signed sliver of a poem book at a house I was cleaning out and brought it home to read.

    Here's one for you:

    She's pressing me gently with a hot steam iron, or she slips her hand inside me as if I were a sock that needed mending. The thread she uses is like the trickle of my blood, but the needle's sharpness is all her own.

    "You will ruin your eyes, Henrietta, in such bad light, her mother warns. And she is right! Never since the beginning of the world has there been so little light. Our winter afternoons have been know to last one hundred years.


    or this one I like too:

    I was stolen by gypsies. My parents stole me right back. Then the gypsies stole me again. This went on for some time. One minute I was in the caravan suckling the dark teat of my new mother, the next I sat at the long dining room table eating my breakfast with a silver spoon.

    It was the first day of spring. One of my fathers was singing in the bathtub; the other one was painting a live sparrow the colors of a tropical bird.


    I want to feel free to do that sort of writing again. I'm so bound up nothing feels like it is "okay" to let go and just pen.

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    1. I hadn't seen this comment until today. Sometimes Google is weird. Sometimes I am. But this time it was Google.

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