Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Iris gigantiacaerulea

Working again on the Apollo poem, the project showing Brendan in the image of the sun deity, indifferent and stern as he stands in the tub, taking his nightly bath. But, it lies frozen— a secondary point needs to be quilted into the mix— another level of thought to merge with the main story—
permafrost • tundra • rime
As a last act of spring planting I placed two large iris clusters, Iris giganticaerulea, in a fresh mound of soil— despite my “injured” knee, the work was effortless— the moist top soil peeled back easily, rhythmic patterns developed with the removal of dirt from the bottom layers of clay and sand, the spade slicing out the grass without complications.


Brendan built his own mound of dirt with a plastic shovel, once or twice glancing at my motions, but for the most part caught up in his own undertaking, building a mountain. Making holes.

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