autemtu

is am be

[autemtu]

das Große Licht, zum Funken erhoben, rechts vonden Ringen und allem Gewinn. the Great Light, elevated to a spark, on the right of the rings and all gain.

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Sight threads sense threads, from...behind time

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“...your eye and mine: they see to water...”

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Entfernung: distanz out distances itself: “the far is furthered” he said

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spaces between: presence (ousia), origin (arche), beyond (meta)

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“...Zhukovsky appears in my dreams...”

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“...what stone wall?...” 

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silently resounds outward outside perhaps everything “knocks from w/out”*

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“Darling, my favorite natural abstraction is a tree so every time you see one from the highway remember the ablative case in which I keep your tilde. (A scythe of moon divides the cloud. The story regains its upward sweep.) O slender spadix projecting from a narrow spathe…”

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We were hands, we baled the darkness empty, we found the word that ascended summer: flower.

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...the sun spalls...

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“Man-made objects, or natural ones, inert in themselves but much used by careless life (you are thinking, and quite rightly so, of a hillside stone over which a multitude of small animals have scurried in the course of incalculable seasons) are particularly difficult to keep in surface focus: novices fall through the surface, humming happily to themselves, and are soon reveling with childish abandon in the story of this stone, of that heath. I shall explain. A thin veneer of immediate reality is spread over natural and artificial matter, and whoever wishes to remain in the now, with the now, on the now(**), should please not break its tension film... More in a moment...” (~N) **we’re at now now...when will then be now...

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On that happy day when the rain was lashing and you played so unexpectedly well came the resolution of the nebulous something that had imperceptibly arisen between us after our first weeks of love. I realized that you had no power over me, that it was not you alone who were my lover but the entire earth. It was as if my soul had extended countless sensitive feelers, and I lived within everything, perceiving simultaneously Niagra Falls thundering far beyond the ocean and the long golden drops rustling and pattering in the lane. I glanced at a birch tree's shiny bark and suddenly felt that, in place of arms, I possessed inclined branches cover with little wet leaves and, instead of legs, a thousand slender roots, twining earth, imbibing it. I wanted to transfuse myself thus into all of nature, to experience what it was like to be an old boletus mushroom with its spongy yellow underside, or a dragonfly, or the solar sphere. I felt so happy that I suddenly burst out laughing, and kissed you on the clavicle and nape. I would even have recited a poem to you, but you detested poetry. [ N ]

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“…up in the mountains, at suitable spots, in special caches of the granite heart, behind painted surfaces of steel made to resemble the mottling of adjacent rocks...” (~Nabokov)