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 Shitao rated 15 months ago -
A flower in our garden, from this afternoon.........
Unfinished Landscape With A Dog
Not much of a dog yet,
that smudge in the distance, beyond the reach
of focus. It's just an impressionist
gesture, a guess. From the edge of the clearing, the farmhouse
materializes, s...
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1 Reviews
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- Shitao rated 15 months ago
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A flower in our garden, from this afternoon.........
Unfinished Landscape With A Dog
Not much of a dog yet,
that smudge in the distance, beyond the reach
of focus. It's just an impressionist
gesture, a guess. From the edge of the clearing, the farmhouse
materializes, settles
into wall & stone. The water,
making the surface
of the stream, makes
reflections. So why shouldn't the dog
accept limits, become
a figure? Is it like the girl who sits
in the hall closet and says she's not
hiding? She's inside--
listening without the burden
of sight, letting locations
release hold. Out of body,
they seem lighter: her parents' voices no longer
hooked to their mouths. They seem
cleaner. Even the electric can opener;
the sounds of children
that rise from the yard, and fall; the opening
window, these are no longer
effects, things expected
of a subject and verb. The world anyhow is too
straightforward.
Maybe the dog
does not want to be a dog, does not want
to be turned into landscape
but to remain in the beginning, placeless:
with the wind opening, the wind
a vowel, and the stars and waters
that flash, recoil, and retch
unnamed as yet, unformed, unfound.
--Kate Northrop
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