Sunset on the Hudson near Kingston, NY, August 2017
Suitcase unpacked but emotions and thoughts from summer travels still in unmarked boxes, waiting to be sorted and put away. Seasons turning, another year counting down, ready or not:
Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round
in another form. The child weaned from mother’s milk
now drinks wine and honey mixed.
God’s joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flower bed.
As roses, up from ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.
Part of the self leaves the body when we sleep
and changes shape. You might say, “Last night
I was a cypress tree, a small bed of tulips,
a field of grapevines.” Then the phantasm goes away.
You’re back in the room.
I don’t want to make any one fearful.
Hear what’s behind what I say.
Tatatumtum tatum tatadum.
There’s the light gold of wheat in the sun
and the gold of bread made from that wheat.
I have neither. I’m only talking about them,
as a town in the desert looks up
at stars on a clear night.
Translated by Coleman Barks.
Flying into Paris this morning, sun rising over a field of clouds… now streaming the eclipse over the US… starring the sun… xxxxx Aliss
Love having a summer birthday…. unplugging, resetting, celebrating for days and weeks, watching the spectacle of our country’s racial agony from afar, will share thoughts soon… to be continued, xxxxx Aliss
(Delicious strawberry shortcake from Adams Fair Acre Farm store in Kingston, NY)
Small town in New York state, two houses on main street, one with flags from Russia, the US, and Hungary over a sign in English, Spanish, and Arabic that says, “It doesn’t matter where you’re from, we’re glad you’re our neighbor” and right next door, huge red flag with the name of Pres. 45 and a picture of him in the front window, snarling…
I wonder how these neighbors get along? Scenes from our on-going American sit-com…
Stay tuned! xxxxx Aliss
Davenport Farm stand, flowers and fresh produce, Stoneridge, NY… to be continued xxxxx Aliss
A state you dare not enter
with hopes of staying
quicksand in the marshes, and all
the roads leading to a castle
that doesn’t exist.
But there it is, as promised,
with its perfect bridge above
and its doors forever open.
— Stephen Dunn
Not blogging as much as I’d like because getting back into music… Just released this reggae, about transforming scary energy, feels timely, swings. The cover is a photo I took of street art in NYC. Check it out on i-tunes, Amazon, Deezer… To be continued xxxxx Aliss