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12 February 2007 in rivers, creeks, washes | Permalink
I was just going to ask you when you were going to go botanizing again. Glad to see you're back.
12 February 2007 at 10:53 PM
Scorched, dried and broken. Hope it's not a personal metaphor.
13 February 2007 at 02:43 AM
Jill--I'm definitely in need of some botanizing.
Laura--I think I'm longing for the desert (and far too distracted by work). Maybe the cracked, dried mud is like my lost voice. And, Laura, the faces you've been doing are wonderful.
13 February 2007 at 07:16 AM
I wasn't sure how to think of what this photo might stand for. Last night I followed the rivers, creeks, washes link and found, not so surprisingly, Lochsa Necklaces and The Astringency of Desire. Somehow after that--don't remember how--I was led to a piece about tracking down a book on Shelley for Debbie in what I think you called the compact stacks, which ended up being about another book you found for yourself while you were there. It reminded me of what happens to me when I read the OED. This morning, by the way, when I looked at the photo again I saw dampness rising. I suppose it could be dampness evaporating. I just don't see it that way.
13 February 2007 at 09:06 AM
Jill--I'm also not sure what the photo stands for--but I couldn't seem to find any thoughts last night to explore. I had mostly been thinking about using the image for several weeks and decided last night not to wait any longer for thoughts to arrive. The desert has been on my mind, and I like the way that dried mud flakes.
I like the physical poetry of looking for something but finding something else (as with the OED)--the tangible metaphors of reach and touch and walking.
13 February 2007 at 09:43 AM
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