Though they crawl on the gilded borders of illuminated manuscripts from another time, often seen as marginalia, I see moths as living oracles who do not speak but quietly land on the surface of things, often as a disturbance calling our attention to the importance of all that is hidden.
excerpt from the Foreword by Terry Tempest Williams in the volume of photography entitled, Mariposas Nocturnas by Emmit Gowin, 2017
early, in the blue morning,
with a dusting of wet snow
and bitter wind,
the crows make their way from their roost—
their cacophony of sound traveling on the falling,
thick flakes, from a height that renders them small black specks that i struggled to see, beyond the iciness that clung to my lashes
History has failed us, but no matter.
opening line from the book, Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, 2017
memories of flowers — paper whites in a window, elegant, tall gladiolas, dried roses in a wooden bowl
this song: You’re No Good, the Linda Ronstadt version
these words: petrichor (thank you Brian) and elysian
black horses in my dreams, wild dogs, the woods and snow clouds
the sound of a relentless rain on a sleepless night
winter, spring, summer and fall sunsets — how different they look and how different they feel
i want to remember the way the light was filtered by the reeds that day we walked along the brick-lined streets and the warmth of a well-loved dog, her smell and her kisses and her wagging tail and the sound of the crunching leaves under my old boots and the rain that fell on our heads as we knelt to watch the vole burrow deeply under a sodden log
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let’s stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
a few lyrics from the song So This Is Christmas by John Lennon, 1971
she walked along the river’s edge with her two most loyal companions: her dog and her solitude
she is a black winged woman
once a virgin, then a maiden, now a crone—
large, formidable, standing in black velvet platform boots,
wind at her back—
no white horses arriving today
no promises of peaceful doves and candy rainbows,
a window to a haunted past
and a hail storm future—
she is one woman,
but she is all the women
of her midnight-caped clan—
flying, diving, surviving—
thriving
Sign, sign
Everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery
Breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that
Can’t you read the sign?
from the song Sign written by Les Emmerson and performed by The Five Man Electrical Band, 1970
spanishwoods 