EXISTENTIAL SHEDDINGS // CELESTIAL DROWNINGS

EXISTENTIAL SHEDDINGS // CELESTIAL DROWNINGS | maps for non-geographical places

[wiremothers-deactivated20230129]

god calls me on the payphone, tells me there aren’t enough magnolia trees in the garden. asks me a question. i spend my whole life answering it.

[existential-celestial]

Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

[existential-celestial]

Paul Celan, from “Flower,” from Poetry (December 1971)

[existential-celestial]

Mary Oliver, from “August,” in featured in Poetry (August 1993)

[existential-celestial]

Paul Celan, from “Flower,” from Poetry (December 1971)

[existential-celestial]

T. S. Eliot, from “La Figlia che Piange,” in The Waste Land, Prufrock and Other Poems (Dover Publications, Inc., 1998).

[existential-celestial]

Raymond Carver, “Hummingbird,” from All of Us: The Collected Poems

[existential-celestial]

Nikolai Lantsov in Rule of Wolves (Leigh Bardugo)

[existential-celestial]

How was summer?                        some             uninhabited       hope                                asking                        some mild rain. Don’t forget                               July. The consciousness Light and Space                    an art where                             you flip through the pages.              everywhere. − j. p. berame // How was summer? 

[existential-celestial]

Mary Oliver, from “Stanley Kunitz,” in Dream Work

[nijinoink]

magnolia

95×60mm(The image is processed into a pattern) , Eraser prints,　

yasuko aoyama  10. 2016

[existential-celestial]

“Now summer is in flower and natures hum”

— John Clare, opening line from “June”

[existential-celestial]

“…June is past, the fading rose;”

— Thomas Carew, from “A Song”

[existential-celestial]

Rainer Maria Rilke in his letter to Franz Kappus, 16 July 1903, featured in Letters to a Young Poet (edited translation by Charlie Louth)

[elisium-deactivated20220102]

[id: believe in a love which is stored up for you like an inheritance, and trust that in this love there is a strength and a benediction out of whose sphere you do not need to step out even if your journey is a long one.]

[existential-celestial]

“I would like to write you so simply, so simply, so simply. Without having anything ever catch the eye, accepting yours alone, […] so that above all the language remains self-evidently secret, as if it were being invented at every step, and as if it were burning immediately,”

— Jacques Derrida (b. 15 July 1930), from The Post Card: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond 

[existential-celestial]

Come Close (Penguin Little Black Classics No. 74), Sappho

[existential-celestial]

fata morgana

always we drag the weight of all the mistakes we keep under our pull-out beds thinking to allow them to just jump out and build a cage of scars around the bodies of all the dreams we have ever made why do we try to shrink our own beautiful selves, amputate our own limbs, for every wrong road we have taken? why do we fold our ambitions into the tiniest possible size, put them in our pockets, and make our descent into the bottom of the lake? always we see the hands of the clock like time bombs to oblivion but love, time will stay and we will not so love, remember: do not halt the rising of your cathedral dreams so love, remember: do not demolish all your standing unfinished buildings apologize to the earth for every time you see the abyss rather than your toes, rooted in births, deaths, and histories apologize to the heavens for every time you see death rather than stars, pulsing, alive, palpable in front of your blurred visions with all possibilities and impossibilities you are here and i see you; i see you and i adore you with a fierceness of a blooming rose which chose to plant itself in the middle of a winter solstice with all the subtle visible unseen all this world’s soft, aching violence —do not let the hardness of life smoothen the sharp edges of the softness that is you the world shall kneel in trying to unhinge you, beloved, you.

– j. p. berame // no. 081716

[existential-celestial]

“I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else…and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more…and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned…I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

— The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket