[iamjapanese]

France Jodoin（Canadian, b.1961）

1. The sleepy rythm of a hundred hours  2019 oil on linen  48 x 48 inches  via     2. The fog rubs its back upon the window panes  2019  oil on linen 30 x 30 inches   via   3. Bells swollen with the sky  oil on linen 60 x 60 inches  via   more

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Tranquil in the twilight dense By the spreading branches made, Let us breathe the influence Of the silence and the shade.

Paul Verlaine, from “Muted,” Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine: Selected Verse and Prose Poems (The Citadel Press, 1995)

[lawrenceleemagnuson]

Charles Ephraim Burchfield (USA 1893-1967) Mid-Afternoon (1916) watercolor and pencil on paper laid down on board 35.6 x 50.8 cm

[deepseaadventures]

Katsuji Wakisaka

10 Mars 1998

[huariqueje]

Spring Glitter  -  Jaana Paulus, 2016.

Finnish, b. 1963-

Woodcut and gilding, 98 x 65 cm.

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

The walnut of my brain glows. I feel it irradiate the skull. I am aware of the consciousness I have, and I mourn the consciousness I do not have.

Robert Bly, from “Eleven O’Clock at Night,” The Man in the Black Coat Turns (HarperPerennial, 1988)

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

to ease a lone heart / into winter emptiness, / November’s reason

Greg Sellers, haiku journal entry, 9 November 2020 (via memoryslandscape)

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

This autumn, I Cannot find the road That way: the things that we must grasp, The signs, are gone, hidden by spring and fall, leaving A still sky here, a dusk there, A dry cornleaf in a field,

Robert Bly, from “The Fire of Despair Has Been Our Saviour,” The Light Around the Body (HarperPerennial, 1991)

[animalinterlace-deactivated2022]

Emilie Palmelund

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

And at night in our bed the bird of me returns to the tree of you. All we’ve shed: leaves and feathers on the floor. The dark and your limbs draw me in.

Sunni Brown Wilkinson, from “At Last the Light in the Trees Wavers,” B O D Y (13 November 2017)

[huariqueje]

Cat on a Yellow Chair -   Elizabeth Blackadder 1972

British b.1931-

oil on canvas, 35.5 x 40.5 cm      14 x 16 in.  

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Words are not common outdoors. Do you know how long it takes to find a word among the brush and tall bluestem? You can look all morning and the word you need will be miles away resting under a windmill, in the sun. When you do catch the word it is rare and alive and does not want to be put into a pen or tossed inside a poem made large as a house. It needs to be left with open places around it, trusted enough not to be staked down. And still it sometimes runs off in the night.

Tom Hennen, from “Words in the Wild,” Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2013)

[oyulib]

We rarely discover, we remember before we think; we see the present in the light of what we already know.

Abraham Heschel, Man is Not Alone

[oyulib]

“A sensitive person knows that the intrinsic, the most essential, is never expressed. Most- and often the best-of what goes on in us is our own secret; we have to wrestle with it ourselves. The stirring in our hearts when watching the star-studded sky is something no language can declare. What smites us with unquenchable amazement is not that which we grasp and are able to convey but that which lies within our reach but beyond our grasp; not the quantitative aspect of nature but something qualitative; not what is beyond our range in time and space but the true meaning, source and end of being, in other words, the ineffable.”

-Abraham Heschel, Man is Not Alone

[huariqueje]

Komyoji temple at autumn, Kyoto  -  Kazuyuki Ohtsu, 2012.

Japanese, b.1935-

Woodblock , on Japanese washi paper.   20 ¾ x 15 in.    53 x 38 cm. 

[suonko]

by Carl Gustav Carus

[lawrenceleemagnuson]

Lisa Breslow, USA Central Park, Spring II oil and pencil on panel 48 x 60 in.