Northerns - Moriyama
Northerns – Moriyama

It is time for a holiday, to a cabin in a forest with a lake. I have books and a canoe. I am unplugging from the grid. See you on the other side.

The Hermitage at the Center


The leaves on the macadam make a noise-
How soft the grass on which the desired
Reclines in the temperature of heaven-


Like tales that were told the day before yesterday-
Sleek in a natural nakedness
She attends the tintinnabula-


And the wind sways like a great thing tottering-
Of birds called up more than the sun,
Birds of more wit, that substitute-


Which suddenly is all dissolved and gone-
Their intelligible twittering
For unintelligible thought.


And yet this end and this beginning are one,
And one last look at the ducks is a look
At lucent children round her in a ring.

Wallace Stevens

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Time's Flow Stemmed is a notebook of my wild readings.

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