rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Oddly

Sometimes I get the feeling that I have wandered into an eccentric translation of a symbolist poem which has somehow displaced reality. I look about and see, for example, fragments of Mallarme.

The lively, lovely and virginal today
will its drunken wings tear for us with a blow
the lake hard and forgotten, haunted below
the frost by the clear glacier of flights not made?


So, I'm not quite sure what anything means if anything at all. The real trees and real ground are there in the dark waiting for morning to reveal them to me, and I will look at them and wonder what they are other than what they appear to be. There is just this feeling that there is something more to all of it. Behind that scattering of apple blossoms on grey pavements, behind the burgeoning green clouds of new foliage, behind the scent of flowers on the breeze, there is something I can't quite grasp.

I might open a door in the air and enter another world. I might never know what I have done. Are things ever what they seem?
Subscribe

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-Six

    The rain had not begun when I went to bed early Friday morning, but when I woke up that afternoon it was doming down quite nicely. It only continued…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-Five

    The jet stream is shifting, making a big bend southward down the west coast, so it is increasingly likely that late January and early February could…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-Four

    Wednesday was pretty much what I expected, being a bit cooler and occasionally cloudy, but dry. The weirdest thing was that there were seven fires…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 3 comments