Leaf - Agnes Martin - 1965 - Acrylic & graphite on Canvas, 72 1/16 x 72 1/8 inches
from NOTES
The underside of the leaf
Cool in shadow
Sublimely unemphatic
Smiling of innocence
The frailest stems
Quivering in light
Bend and break
In silence
This poem, like the paintings, is not really about nature. It is not
what is seen. It is what is known forever in the mind.
*
The silence on the floor of my house
Is all the questions and all the answers that have been known in
the world
The sentimental furniture threatens the peace
The reflection of a sunset speaks loudly of days
*
In my best moments I think "Life has passed me by" and I am
content.
Walking seems to cover time and space but in reality we are
always just where we started. I walk but in reality I am hand in
hand with contentment on my own doorstep.
The ocean is deathless
The islands rise and die
Quietly come, quietly come
A silent swaying breath
I wish the idea of time would drain out of my cells and leave me
quiet even on this shore.
Agnes Martin (b. Macklin, Canada 1912 - d. Taos, New Mexico 2004)
from Writings
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Drift - CB - 2011 - preparatory sketch - Ink, pencil & whiteout on paper
from NOTES
Not knowing where to start
I start with what I know; Time
Cannot thwart the determined scent
Of memory
*
On the tide line, red kelp -
The heart's vast garden.
*
A painting's been sloshing about in me for some time
And wants out. Chances are it will be a messy business
But - don't I know - sooner or later squalls make way
For benevolent waters. Paintings are tidal; miraculously
The things we need are brought to shore, offered up
For the making - visor, welding torch, life
Jacket, oars, orange, barnacles, boat.
*
Sometimes it helps to stand on sand And yelp to kelp. Everywhere we look
We see darkness and dazzle.
Small Points of Light.
*
Here. There. Elsewhere
Shadows settle on the shoulders of air.
*
Spirit level. Level spirit.
CB
I'd have liked you, Agnes M
For more Tuesday Poems, please click on the quill.
Sarah Jane Barnett is this week's Tuesday Poem editor. Sarah has posted an excerpt from a longer poem ("Wall-of-China' long!) by Yeager.
So spare, so pared down, silent to the point of almost prayerful emaciation. You are becoming an anchoress before our eyes, Claire.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure what realm we're in - or on - these days, M. Odd, slow times. Little-is-known times. Sometimes it feels as though we're in a process of evaporating, dissolving, melting, reconfiguring. (Caterpillar-smush?) What to do but hang on to our respective twig trusting we'll come out the other side in one piece. Love to you in WInthrop. . . I will send you an e- this afternoon. xo
ReplyDeleteA lovely meditation for a cold winter's eve. Yelping to kelp is very helpful isn't it.
ReplyDeleteHi Helen - thanks for popping. There's soup on the stove and a fire blazing. . . Yelping to kelp can be very helpful, yes - especially when there's no one else on the beach. ; )
ReplyDeleteOops - of course, I meant 'popping by', Helen! I sincerely hope you haven't popped since visiting!! ; )
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this,
ReplyDeletewas especially struck by
"...Time
Cannot thwart the determined scent
Of memory."