turning-point / beachy head
The work of the eyes is done.
Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Turning-point: Miscellaneous Poems 1912-1926
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isolated forms
My friend, I am not what I seem.
Seeming is but a garment I wear — a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
Khalil Gibran, The Madman, 1918
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peripheral / reprise / one year
"intermediary sentinels
forgotten souls prowl and stutter.
dust veiled echoes
time forged tapestry
her ashen veneer torn, bar a helix suture.
from within, a still, penetrating stare
sorrow lurking like a lost augury.
ruined, not dead, she whispers
a slow, staggered refrain.
the silent chatter
deafening."
Guy Dickinson, Peripheral, 2017 -
isolated forms
Seen from this high,
The fields have a terrible monotony.
Randall Jarrell, Field and Forest, 1971
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meander / cicatrix / mynydd parys
"And this also," said Marlow suddenly,
"has been one of the dark places of the earth."
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 1899
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pulvis et umbra sumus / moor mill pits
If I shut my eyes it returns: the evocation of a whole wood, a whole world of wood-darkness and flowers and birds and late summer silence,
of a million leaves turning mellowly to death.
Herbert Ernest Bates, Through the Woods, 1936