--Jorie GrahamThe slow overture of rain,each drop breakingwithout breaking intothe next, describesthe unrelenting, syncopatedmind. Not unlikethe hummingbirdsimagining their wingsto be their heart, and swallowsbelieving the horizonto be a line they liftand drop. What is itthey cast for? The poplars,advancing or retreating,lose their statureequally, and yet stand firm,making arrangementsin order to becomeimaginary. The citydraws the mind in streets,and streets compel itfrom their intersectionswhere a littlebelongs to no one. It iswhat is driven throughall stationary portionsof the world, gravity’sstake in things, the leaves,pressed against the dankwindow of Novembersoil, remain unwelcometill transformed, partsof a puzzle unsolvabletill the edges give a bitand soften. See howthen the picture becomes clear,the mind entering the groundmore easily in pieces,and all the richer for it.
2022-11-18
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