Sunday, April 23, 2006

fresh off the typewriter...

I've been thinking about inevitability. about whatever it may be that we have no control over. the deep vicious southern thunderstorms. the tumbling of one season into another. how dawn always means more night just over the horizon. and as I was reminded recently, each moment we live is actually a moment already past. the delay from the signals our senses receive in transmission to our feeble and fragile human brains, the instant of translation into conciousness, means we are consigned to living in memory. forever trying to catch up to ourselves, hurrying from one second to the next. impossible to slow down. inevitable. and racing towards the edge of the dark forest that waits for us all. there is only what's next. we do what we can.

blue mouse

the footprint
of a ghost,
of blue smoke
around itself

in the pinestraw
and acorns.

pearls of dew
reflect the grey dawn.

the air is very still.

over damp earth
hawk's shadow

the precision
of time.

this space
here and there.

small deaths

a circle



Blogger j.b said...

nicely done, my man.
powerful imagery, but you're the master at powerful imagery.

i wrote a poem a few years ago about such things, about how the moment we are actually living in (the moment we are "aware" of living in) is actually a few seconds in the past because of brain processing delays, etc. and how tragedies actually take longer to get over due to this miniscule difference.

great minds...

9:43 AM  
Blogger christopher cunningham said...

no no no, only YOUR great mind. that is where I got the DELAY part of my post. no shit, I was rereading one of your chaps and that filtered into my reveries about inevitability. my grandmother is in the hospital and it got me thinking about such morbid thoughts. not that I don't already dwell on that INEVITABLE bone hand reaching out from the twisted shadows.

wait, I found it: "a matter of a second."

gonna post it up....

3:05 PM  
Blogger j.b said...

much obliged, my man.
happy, also, to have been able to assist you in your gloomy and melancholy thoughts. i think of these things sometimes, how reality is just a construct of our mind, how words are nothing more than just tags or labels for reality, which, again, is nothing more than just a construct...

it leads to those desperate times, like Rene Descartes, when we have to just say Cogito Ergo Sum.

5:24 PM  
Blogger christopher cunningham said...

just heard today that this poem will be in my new book from sunnyoutside.

no title yet, will post when I got one...

10:22 PM  

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