See Scott Thurstons pages at www.archiveofthenow.com/ _______ |
Scott Thurston
from Figure Detached, Figure Impermanent *** Mad for all your dead things – did you forget it could
be otherwise? Try to measure problems against a speechless wonder, safely
observing the transition between desire and sadness as virtue advances day by
day. Draw it out so I can hold it, keep it, have it for a while – not be
had by it. *** Many things concealed and revealed, turning in towards land,
moving a few paces down the shore, then turning out again. You ought to find a
station to grasp a husk of staged clarity, a transitional perspective. A
confederation of component segments tears-in at one point, paraphrasing what
you felt through individual figurative detachment. *** Watching for dawns call to care – nowhere to go,
nothing to do. Weighing the substance of hope, the returning cranes were heard
through the clouds. An opening into experience draws outward fire in a term of
warring ends. Singular in each particular, this double garment changes your
disposition, makes the flickering present still your will. Done in me. *** Striving for display, thronging to indulgences, people leave
their protector behind. Sadness that we do not express
ourselves. Address the being trapped inside by acquiring knowledge
urgently: no need to recollect an interrupted concept. Imprinted parts turn
force enclose surround innocence trust. Meet the wild son in a continuum of
free dissociation; tune our hand in form, if only. *** It has been entirely a thought as of prayer. Hidden in the
subtle self, to receive the punishment you forget about survival for a moment.
I thought into the impervious slant of your joy. If we are alive: instigate the
beauty. On the edge between change and choice the little phrase might be all
that remains. *** The greater the measure of virtue, the more the fungus
attaches to the base of the bowl in the mind. Two fish weigh the task of care
– clear and unctuous – beneath the winter flowering plum, beneath
the crazed glaze. The heart overflows the gilded rim. | ||