MAEDA MASAO
Penketo Lake on Hokkaido Island, 1960

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MAEDA MASAO
Penketo Lake on Hokkaido Island, 1960
Great Depression-era Christmas card on recycled paper (via here)
the back of this card:
Finally, Some Concrete Career Advice
by Natalie Shapero
Don’t be an actor. God observes you violent in a scene and, thinking it is real, mistakenly adds you to Hell. This happens all the time. It’s like when I traveled across eight states in shattering pain to curl beside S as she left this Earth, only to later have a dream I’d instead stayed home eating fruit cups and sewing a patch on my jeans. I didn’t know a dream could undo a true event, uncement it, but it did — from then on, I hadn’t gone, and how do I live with myself now, I ask each day —
Love Poem
by Richard Brautigan
It’s so nice to wake up in the morning all alone and not have to tell somebody you love them when you don’t love them anymore.
It Was Like This: You Were Happy
by Jane Hirshfield
It was like this: you were happy, then you were sad, then happy again, then not.
It went on. You were innocent or you were guilty. Actions were taken, or not.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent. Mostly, it seems you were silent — what could you say?
Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.
It does this not in forgiveness — between you, there is nothing to forgive — but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment he sees the bread is finished with transformation.
Eating, too, is a thing now only for others.
It doesn’t matter what they will make of you or your days: they will be wrong, they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man, all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad, you slept, you awakened. Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
Yes
by William Stafford
It could happen any time, tornado, earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen. Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That’s why we wake and look out -- no guarantees in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning, like right now, like noon, like evening.
Don’t mind me just thinking about the hole in the middle of the United States where Chipping sparrows refuse to fuck
small talk enjoyers when the weather is in any way notable:
Look through any window, Jochen Mühlenbrink