.
View from the Dunes with Beach and Piers, Domburg: Piet Mondrian, 1909 (Museum of Modern Art, New York)
With Bob and Joanne then, rounding
the cliffs from Wharf Road
to the beach one idle late summer
afternoon, as if time were endless,
sitting down then to rest
as if at home, at water’s
edge, the seabirds swooping,
the beach empty, the talk lapping,
inconsequential, nothing brings
consequence, all happens, all this
sweet nothing. The moments flood back,
a blurring tide, and then withdraw
again into the ever
accumulating pool of ebbing
attentions, lost hopes, forgotten so
called dreams. No longer here to live,
simply to snatch another breath.
Three sat talking on the beach, one
doesn’t know what was meant,
one doesn’t know what was
said. But the faces, the voices
come for a moment clear. There, in
that light. Here. The tide incoming.
So it was then as the sun went down.
for Robert Creeley (1926-2005)
"But the faces, the voices
ReplyDeletecome for a moment clear."
And they always will in such good hands, Tom.
Thanks and a giving — today and everyday — to you both and all furry critters.
This Mondrian is quite nice old beaches everywhere.
Thanks, Bob. Odd how the clear bits pop up out of the long muzzy passages. The latter inexorably gaining on the former, but still.
ReplyDeleteAll gifts of the night and thanks of the stars to you and your breathers.
Yes, I love the idea of Mondrian at the beach. With Bob. And Bob.
this is a tender tribute... and the image is quite lovely.
ReplyDeleteremembering a teacher
ReplyDeleteactive reflection
of water stars off
the niagara
observes
informs
involves
reminds one of 3 on a pebble beach, 13 VIII 70
ReplyDeleteCreeleys students, Don & Pat Murphy McClelland, & my good self
'Waiting for Tom Clark'
write on
Dan Rowe
rodanrowe@yahoo
Lovely to be hearing from the gentle generations of RC rememberers.
ReplyDeleteThe moment I've recalled here puts me in mind of this of his:
Water Music
The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.
Water music,
loud in the clearing
off the boats,
birds, leaves.
They look for a place
to sit and eat--
no meaning,
no point.