.
Here's what I love about the slipstream blankness
Of the white page, its ability to
Harbour an illimitable conception.
I'll sail through zero into paradise.
I'll summon white thought streaming through the pale
Veins of the white leaf. I'll watch it sink into
The watermark and insinuate the margins
The way a sailors' girl beckons from the shade of
A lamp, whose illumination also falls
To its knees before the grand fog incoming.
Harbour an illimitable conception.
I'll sail through zero into paradise.
I'll summon white thought streaming through the pale
Veins of the white leaf. I'll watch it sink into
The watermark and insinuate the margins
The way a sailors' girl beckons from the shade of
A lamp, whose illumination also falls
To its knees before the grand fog incoming.
Intentionally blank pages at end of a book: photo by Roke, 2005
New Bridge, Bratislava, Slovakia: temperature inversion, 11 November 2005: photo by Ondrejk, 2005
Intentionally blank pages: that's me at least a few times every single day.
ReplyDeleteMy Blank Pages.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that the name of a song by that kid Zimmerman?
I had to soak this in more than once, and when I finally read it aloud it gave me chicken skin.
ReplyDelete"slipstream blankness"
"sail through zero into paradise"
and "white thought streaming through the pale
Veins of the white leaf."
These are stuck in my brain.
Thanks for the link. An honor.
While I did like how the earlier version played the vividly colorful imaginary perfection against the as yet unblemished page, and against expectation, even though all the colors of the spectrum add up to white, when reading that version they kind of remained distinct on my mental retina. Here the rhythmic statements of purpose and their imagery really capture the seductive excitement and power of possibility before luffing our sails.
ReplyDeleteMakes me think of how sometimes the white page/canvas seems to lead, and the dialogue there within. I love the idea of 'the slipstream blankness'.
ReplyDeleteYes I believe you do just that, with your blank pages.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if I mentioned before, but your 'titles' always draw me in too.Not only words in the body of your Poems, but also the 'titles' play awhile in my brain.
Otto,
ReplyDeleteTo cause brain-sticking and give chicken skin I would hold as the highest objectives of a writer.
(Emaciated geezer passes mirror, sees chicken skin every time. Awk!)
Annie,
Yes, this is the digitally scrubbed version. Laundry night every night down home in the Blogger temple. Always leave 'em luffing, my new motto.
Leigh,
Yes, how beautiful the blank canvas, how inviting, how intimidating, how fresh, how clean, how challenging and demanding.
SarahA,
As always you are my closest noticer. I think of these posts as conversations in which the conversing parties are: the titles; the images; the texts; the attributions. The titles start the conversation off.
Indeed a great ocean for all of us locos por naufragar.
ReplyDelete:D
The shore forever out of reach, though sometimes it feels almost close enough to touch, through las nieblas...
ReplyDelete(Thinking of your photo of the boats lost in the fog on Lago Lácar.)