for the words today and other days from PKH and dbc and many many other daily
strugglers/writers on the fluxlist, I am forwarding this most wonderful pome
for your late sunday afternoon enjoyment (prefaced & with info from the good
friend who sent it to me):
We bought some books today, used books, and among them was one called "The
Sun Placed in the Abyss," by Francis Ponge, translationed by Serge
Gavronsky. From it I offer a portion of the poem 'Still Life and Chardin'--
Isn't it pleasant,
After a long walk through the woods in winter,--
Who knows?
After an afternoon at the circus
Or a plane trip,--
To go back home and look at
A few peaches on a plate?
To tell the truth, I like that.
I was about to say that I preferred that.
I'm also very fond of putting my hands in my pockets.
Is that a vice? I do it to my heart's content.
For example, when I'm in a car with friends and they rave about the
scenery, I find an 'in petto' delight in suddenly turning back to look at
the driver's wrist or the velvet seat cover. It gives me an astounding
pleasure.
Nothing seems to equal that sight.
As for the scenery, I caught it all in the twinkle of an eye.
There, of course, you've got to be slightly more attentive, but what
rewards?
I suggest this little exercise.
Obviously, in some way, the driver's wrist is highlighted by the
scenery.
I don't deny that.
And if I go back to the scenery, it then becomes all the more
attractive, coming out of the driver's wrist.
