#memoryslandscape

[bluewillowmoon]

“Before long, fate will sit down

for one last supper,

will savor each taste of remembrance —

Dusk, and the cicadas are at it again.

They strain above the early evening silence,

a gentle husking of time.”

— Greg Sellers, from “Geis,” work-in-progress, n.d. (saved from post by memoryslandscape)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Ocean Beach, San Francisco . . :: Photo: James Fox

* * * * *

“Our view of life is but a sliver of light in the thick, velvety darkness. […] Remember that any summary of life, even a well-written biography, fails to capture the details that comprise a life: the quiet evenings by the sink, the way a person smiled or laughed, an April sunset turning crimson behind a row of beech that sets them into a reverie of childhood, which is, itself, misremembered, since accessing a memory changes its form.”

— Andrew Bertaina, from “Home Burial,” The Chattahoochee Review (vol. XL, no. 2 & 3, Fall 2020) [memoryslandscape]

[zoeflake]

“Some landscapes do not fade as memories; they remain panoramas for the soul.”

— Greg Sellers, journal entry, 3 June 2018 (@memoryslandscape)

[tamurakafkaposts]

I would rather be one tree in a field than another among the woods. Greg Sellers, journal entry (14 November 2017)

[huong1952]

'But till that morning comes' is an original swallow silhouette painting by Melbourne based artist Vincente-Lucy Knight.

https://felt.co.nz/listing/75342/Original-acrylic-swallow-painting-on-silk-paper-

“swallows follow swells / in sky’s deepening blue, flee / dusk’s dark undertow”

@memoryslandscape

[da-da-sk]

“I have been born so much / and twice as much have suffered / in the memory of here and there.”

 -- Alejandra Pizarnik

@memoryslandscape

© da-da-sk

[bluewillowmoon]

lady leans forward

sashless kimono opens

sunlit curtains blush

—Greg Sellers, 12 May 2022

(from saved memoryslandscape post)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

An interesting view of the beautiful city of Trieste from the 15th century Castello di San Giusto above the city. :: David Kam

* * * * *

“Our lives, it seems, are a memory we had once in another place. Or are they its metaphor? The trees, if trees they are, seem the same, and the creeks do. The sunlight blurts its lucidity in the same way, And the clouds, if clouds they really are, still follow us, One after one, as they did in the old sky, in the old place. I wanted the metaphor, if metaphor it is, to remain always the same one. I wanted the hills to be the same, And the rivers, too, especially the old rivers, […] And me beside them, under the stopped clouds and stopped stars. I wanted to walk in that metaphor, untouched by time’s corruption.” 

— Charles Wright, from “Transparencies,” Scar Tissue (Farrar, straus, and Giroux, 2006) [memoryslandscape]