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Wednesday, 14 September 2011

But Really It's OK


Abandoned house, New Mexico Highway 209 north of Clovis
: photo by Billy Hathorn, 11 July 2008


has gone away
.for awhile,

...... and presto,
. different room, another empty

. in the next block
...... the lawn
trembling with
. your tracks

File:Rowley, Alberta 017a.jpg

Abandoned street and home, Rowley, Alberta: photo by Kappakapa, 2008




Yes, "someone/ has gone away" -- there's the house, no one home (no photos from Davis showing up here) . . . .


light coming into fog against invisible
ridge, song sparrow calling from branch
in foreground, wave sounding in channel

everything still, which has
little by little form

within arm’s reach, of that,
shadow contrasts with

grey white of fog against top of ridge,
shadowed green pine on tip of sandspit

TC said...

Yes, things go away... it's such a ghostly time...

vazambam said...

For some things, it's about time! :>)

aditya said...

Your poem and comment do not sound cheerful in the first place. As Wittgenstein says-

“I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves.”

what ever leftovers life has thrown toward us and and everything we are leaving behind.

I hope you are, in ' the general scheme of things ' doing fine and keeping up with life.

PS - In Germany they fine people heavily for leaving behind/wasting the food they'd ordered.

TC said...

Yes, and good riddance.

Let us leave the leftovers to the wild crepuscular creatures.

ACravan said...

Lovely and very sad. I've never seen New Mexico, actually, and never imagined that Clovis looked like this. I kind of see it exclusively through the mental lens of Buddy Holly recording at Norman Petty's studio. The title "But Really It's OK" and "trembling with your tracks" really resonate for me. Curtis

TC said...

Come to think of it, Curtis, the title "But Really It's OK," if given horn rims and a touch of TexMex rockabilly backbeat, might have been on that plane in that snowstorm with the Big Bopper on that ill-fated night.

And presto, another empty world, in the vast Herriman-esque dark of the afterlife.