Have you seen 'I'm Not There" is a wonderful film.
Here's a new poem:
Joseph Cornell's Tools
Joseph Cornell used these sturdy tools and instruments to create boxes— time-machines, constructions made from bits and pieces, three dimensional frames for fans, lace, buttons and feathers, along with a torn fragment of photography—an image of Mallarme's hands. One contains an illustration, a humming bird that seems to hover in the space between the glass and the box's backing—in another, an etching of a great horned owl—like the bird I watched one night, perched on a light-post in Boulder, Colorado— it swoops from memory now, filling my study with silent flight, bringing to mind another visitation: just this afternoon, returning from the post office I drove ahead of an approaching storm, the trees shook and a black cockatoo flew out from them—it sailed on, ahead of my car for almost a minute— a long time given the situation, stroking the air before the windscreen, following the road, so close I could see every detail of its plumage, especially two patches of colour, flame-red bars across tail feathers. Something other than beautiful, fleeting.
1 comment:
dear Waffle
Have you seen 'I'm Not There" is a wonderful film.
Here's a new poem:
Joseph Cornell's Tools
Joseph Cornell used these sturdy tools
and instruments to create boxes—
time-machines, constructions made
from bits and pieces, three dimensional
frames for fans, lace, buttons
and feathers, along with a torn fragment
of photography—an image of Mallarme's
hands. One contains an illustration,
a humming bird that seems to hover
in the space between the glass and the box's
backing—in another, an etching
of a great horned owl—like the bird
I watched one night, perched on
a light-post in Boulder, Colorado—
it swoops from memory now, filling
my study with silent flight, bringing to mind
another visitation: just this afternoon,
returning from the post office
I drove ahead of an approaching storm,
the trees shook and a black cockatoo
flew out from them—it sailed on, ahead
of my car for almost a minute—
a long time given the situation, stroking the air
before the windscreen, following the road,
so close I could see every detail of its plumage,
especially two patches of colour,
flame-red bars across tail feathers.
Something other than beautiful, fleeting.
Robert Adamson
Mooney Creek
NSW
19/3/08
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