musing

there is no real realization of it moving if it does not move against something

 
heron blue, struck stark against diminished blue heron feeding frenzy
all the fish wild and wide-eyed all the fish weeds
something to feed feed again swallow whole round as eggs feed again swallow
following the frenzy below the water man laughs and claps but stays laughing things take flight
he laughs likes a cup with a crack filled with water leaking
things take flight feeding the frenzy below weeds blowing
in the winds of the river called by any other name would be a body
like a heron grasshopper green in the thin light of the diminished blue
it’s a trick of the shade to call a willow wintry in the summer’s last haze
man laughing at the wrong time man thinking mouth is a grey mouse let loose filling up on crumbs and the stark reality of summer in a ditch stitched to the banks under the feet of a feeding heron frenzied with need fish blooming wild
between eggs laid like motherhood floating useless down the stream into a wide-mouthed delta of shit and crushed shells sand shaped to the hand
reality is startled starling in flight
when thought about, man took possible note of
everything could be a possible blue

so we have now a movement lively enough to be a thing in itself moving, it does not have to move against anything to know that it is moving

-Gertrude Stein

 

 

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