Beyond the Pale
Thanks once again to the brilliant boat-person Nora for inviting us aboard her ongoing poetry-comical sea-cruise...I love that spooky incandescent fog-piercing lime-green cat's eye!Some seldom-seen film footage of JK & mates on shore in the Village (Third Ave. & 9th St.), 1959
And moving from that sea swallowing the useless rain to the blue of the fur is something very good too.
Oh don't you love this useless purple rain, heavy brush strokes into a welcoming tormented sea. I do....
These are wonderful. Thanks, Tom Clark.
Thank you WB, Marie and Sarah for sharing my appreciation of Nora's and Jack's arts.These special arts transport the forever limited powers of the verbal intelligence over the high seas of the nonverbal to that other nameless place alluded to by Pessoa in a poem now up on Sarah's blog: Why call water my sister if water isn’t my sister? To feel it better? I feel it better by drinking it than by calling it something – Sister, or mother, or daughter. Water is beautiful because it’s water. If I call it my sister, I can see, even as I call it that, that it’s not my sister And that it’s best to call it water, since that’s what it is, Or, better yet, not to call it anything But to drink it, to feel it on my wrists, and to look at it, Without any names.
Post a Comment