Thursday, March 22, 2012

equinox / rebirth

His grandmother was the clan's fortune teller, was said to be the last of a long line of fortune tellers born with one ear to the heavens, for there had been no daughters, and no granddaughters, and it was feared her gift would die with her. His grandmother always read the cards at the new moon, calculated when it was time to shift camp, what way the winds favored, and his grandmother had shown him the westward march of the night sky. When he had been young she had told him of the western shore where the sky and the land joined, where stars became birds and fish became men, for we had all been formed out of the great western sea, and, like the sun, it was our fate to return to the west for a pilgrimage to our beginnings once every lifetime.

City of glass / by Paul Auster

magnolias? mosquitoes? and how!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

five minutes, at dawn

In the midst of these ruminations, a mouse scattered across the floor, disturbed in its habits by my presence in the kitchen, and it seemed to be dropping things as it went. The contours and power of the dream began to fade as I considered the scene before me, a mouse, trying to frantically collect things which were obviously cumbersome and yet still not visible to my own eyes. I clambered onto the floor, as quietly as possible, and sought to see what ought to have been in a path straight in front of my feet. There was nothing there, but when I ran my hand across the floor, the air felt different; it was heavier, and warmer, like the first warm gust of wind on an early spring day. Even though I couldn't see anything, my hand, feeling in the current of space, could, in fact, feel the pieces that the mouse had dropped. At this point, all memories of the dream were fading completely, obscured by an even more confusing rift in my reality.

The Wind in the Willows (which begins with spring cleaning, and quickly moves into truancy and river boats)

spring cleaning, truancy, and river boats

Friday, March 9, 2012

reading the above

Instead I pointed to the sky, pointed to the North Star always glowing steadily even when the moon went away or moved in the sky, and I traced the Dippers for him, mimed drawing water from a river, showed him how the handle of the Dipper pointed to the North Star, constant in her place. I stood from the ground, adopted the Archer's stance, indicated the starry belt and showed the boy how the Archer hunted in different parts of the sky with the change of the seasons, finding what fare he could amid the heavens. There in the sky, hovering over the edge of the horizon, was the red, red glow of Mars, and I took out the papers again, and showed the boy my drawings of Mars in the night sky.

"Mars," I said "Mars, the Warrior, glowing low in the sky under the Archer's feet, the planet of fire and war, the god of action. I wouldn't make him angry, he never forgets and he never forgives, but the Archer is our friend."

The Alexandria quartet / by Lawrence Durrell

between five and six in the evening, the deep orange of the setting sun and silhouettes of tree branches reflect in the windows of buildings : the witching hour of spring