“In a sky reflected downward on a lake, the clouds whirl around like summer spirits, and as you row across this sky of water your oar dips quietly towards evening like a dark wooden spoon into the cloud-milk. You feel giddy in a silent and private feeling of detachment, simultaneously lost and at home in the light playing tricks among the reflections, and you continue rowing both in water and in baffling sky. The boat casts a shadow in a heaven of water and the keel’s wake wrinkles the glass mountain. Far away you see a ripple of forest wind stir the reflections of sunlit leaves. The mirrored greenery buckles in the boat’s waves. On the shore a woman in a yellow blouse is also reflected, her liquid image is pulled out into filaments of desire fluttering like tongues of fire in the purity of water.”
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Filaments of Desire...
“In a sky reflected downward on a lake, the clouds whirl around like summer spirits, and as you row across this sky of water your oar dips quietly towards evening like a dark wooden spoon into the cloud-milk. You feel giddy in a silent and private feeling of detachment, simultaneously lost and at home in the light playing tricks among the reflections, and you continue rowing both in water and in baffling sky. The boat casts a shadow in a heaven of water and the keel’s wake wrinkles the glass mountain. Far away you see a ripple of forest wind stir the reflections of sunlit leaves. The mirrored greenery buckles in the boat’s waves. On the shore a woman in a yellow blouse is also reflected, her liquid image is pulled out into filaments of desire fluttering like tongues of fire in the purity of water.”
