May 2015
she sits un-typically
without sound
"I'm...listening to...the not-sound!"
she listens to Coleridge's "coalescence
of subject&object;"
the world flows through her
she
the tuning fork of self
vibrating to what she sees
she lives black
she lives red
the colours talk to her
the universe
in rapt conversation with
this tiny girl of three
she knows this
black as crow
this red as blood
she now knows
this black and red
as death
tears
her only
language
a little bit of universe
cease to speak
she listens to its "...not-sound."
she gently
asleep curled up
like a question mark
without sound
"I'm...listening to...the not-sound!"
she listens to Coleridge's "coalescence
of subject&object;"
the world flows through her
she
the tuning fork of self
vibrating to what she sees
she lives black
she lives red
the colours talk to her
the universe
in rapt conversation with
this tiny girl of three
she knows this
black as crow
this red as blood
she now knows
this black and red
as death
tears
her only
language
a little bit of universe
cease to speak
she listens to its "...not-sound."
she gently
asleep curled up
like a question mark
I was watching Matsuo Bashō in the long long ago writing his haiku on the beach at Kuwana whilst watching my daughter play. The she seemed to step into a silence and went far far away....after a while I asked her where she was and she shushed me with a "Shhhhh...I'm listening to the not-sound!" Bashō could only smile. A book opened itself( by falling on the floor)and then Coleridge started talking to my mind. I put the kettle on for tea and thought how Tilly 'lived' what Coleridge thought...just by being a little girl. She collapsed all boundaries between her and the world and allowed the world to flow through her in all its knowing without knowing how she knew.
We then went for a walk in the snow...had I said it had just stopped snowing...and found a run-over-crow so black against the snow and a red so red it vibrated through the mind. She cried and cried as if tears were the only words she knew.
Tired out after the walk I watched my little human question mark asleep on a big blue cushion so that she seemed like a little egg in her favourite blue nest. Long before then Mr. Basho had changed the first line from "fallen snows are light" to "in the dawn twilight." I regretted the change( as did Matsuo )but there...ya go.
And so my FALLEN SNOWS ARE LIGHTwas written from a discarded Bashō line and Mr. Sammy Coleridge dropping in upon me and my little world of a girl.
I was watching Matsuo Bashō in the long long ago writing his haiku on the beach at Kuwana whilst watching my daughter play. Then she seemed to step into a silence and went far far away....after a while I asked her where she was and she shushed me with a "Shhhhh...I'm listening to the not-sound!" Bashō could only smile.
A book opened itself( by falling on the floor)and then Coleridge started talking to my mind. I put the kettle on for tea and thought how Tilly 'lived' what Coleridge thought...just by being a little girl. She collapsed all boundaries between her and the world and allowed the world to flow through her in all its knowing without knowing how she knew.
We then went for a walk in the snow...had I said it had just stopped snowing...and found a run-over-crow so black against the snow and a red so red it vibrated through the mind. She cried and cried as if tears were the only words she knew.
Tired out after the walk I watched my little human question mark asleep on a big blue cushion so that she seemed like a little egg in her favourite blue nest. Long before then Mr. Basho had changed the first line from "fallen snows are light" to "in the dawn twilight." I regretted the change( as did Matsuo )but there...ya go.
And so my FALLEN SNOWS ARE LIGHTwas written from a discarded Bashō line and Mr. Sammy Coleridge dropping in upon me and my little world of a girl.
She was always the best example of MAKOTO I've ever seen...that floating Japanese word that can now mean "sincerity" or "earnestness" or "a heart free of falsehood." She was elemental.
I was busy writing this little thingy at the time...
moving out of the fog
the mountain stands stock still
observing the human observing it
I was originally going to call the poem MAKOTO as it was my nickname for me...
"Hey my little Makoto...ya wanna go and see the sea!"
We then went for a walk in the snow...had I said it had just stopped snowing...and found a run-over-crow so black against the snow and a red so red it vibrated through the mind. She cried and cried as if tears were the only words she knew.
Tired out after the walk I watched my little human question mark asleep on a big blue cushion so that she seemed like a little egg in her favourite blue nest. Long before then Mr. Basho had changed the first line from "fallen snows are light" to "in the dawn twilight." I regretted the change( as did Matsuo )but there...ya go.
And so my FALLEN SNOWS ARE LIGHTwas written from a discarded Bashō line and Mr. Sammy Coleridge dropping in upon me and my little world of a girl.
I was watching Matsuo Bashō in the long long ago writing his haiku on the beach at Kuwana whilst watching my daughter play. Then she seemed to step into a silence and went far far away....after a while I asked her where she was and she shushed me with a "Shhhhh...I'm listening to the not-sound!" Bashō could only smile.
A book opened itself( by falling on the floor)and then Coleridge started talking to my mind. I put the kettle on for tea and thought how Tilly 'lived' what Coleridge thought...just by being a little girl. She collapsed all boundaries between her and the world and allowed the world to flow through her in all its knowing without knowing how she knew.
We then went for a walk in the snow...had I said it had just stopped snowing...and found a run-over-crow so black against the snow and a red so red it vibrated through the mind. She cried and cried as if tears were the only words she knew.
Tired out after the walk I watched my little human question mark asleep on a big blue cushion so that she seemed like a little egg in her favourite blue nest. Long before then Mr. Basho had changed the first line from "fallen snows are light" to "in the dawn twilight." I regretted the change( as did Matsuo )but there...ya go.
And so my FALLEN SNOWS ARE LIGHTwas written from a discarded Bashō line and Mr. Sammy Coleridge dropping in upon me and my little world of a girl.
She was always the best example of MAKOTO I've ever seen...that floating Japanese word that can now mean "sincerity" or "earnestness" or "a heart free of falsehood." She was elemental.
I was busy writing this little thingy at the time...
moving out of the fog
the mountain stands stock still
observing the human observing it
I was originally going to call the poem MAKOTO as it was my nickname for me...
"Hey my little Makoto...ya wanna go and see the sea!"
