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"How can we live without the unknown before us?" (Rene Char)

Via Negativa Daily Digest

Up and down

Written by Dave Bonta on Oct 09, 2019 12:54 pm

(Lord’s day). Up, and to church, where I have not been a good while: and there the church infinitely thronged with strangers since the fire come into our parish; but not one handsome face in all of them, as if, indeed, there was a curse, as Bishop Fuller heretofore said, upon our parish. Here I saw Mercer come into the church, which I had a mind to, but she avoided looking up, which vexed me. A pretty good sermon, and then home, and comes Balty and dined with us. A good dinner; and then to have my haire cut against winter close to my head, and then to church again. A sorry sermon, and away home. W. Pen and I to walk to talk about several businesses, and then home; and my wife and I to read in Fuller’s Church History, and so to supper and to bed.
This month ends with my mind full of business and concernment how this office will speed with the Parliament, which begins to be mighty severe in the examining our accounts, and the expence of the Navy this war.

church thronged
with strangers
one face looking up

*

haircut in winter
I talk about the history
of mining


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 30 September 1666.



Building site

Written by Dave Bonta on Oct 09, 2019 11:53 am

View on Vimeo.

Where does all this soil end up, I wonder? It’s being removed to make room for the un-earth of a mass transit hub which, it seems, nobody really wants except for the investors.

Not the most brilliant footage, but I’m kind of pleased with the haiku.



Dream-making

Written by Luisa A. Igloria on Oct 09, 2019 11:00 am
Today I wear the round 
beaded earrings with fringed
golden tassels my eldest
daughter got for me, made
by women who live in Lake Sebu,
famous for the T'boli weave
they make called t'nalak—
stripped abacá bark, organically
dyed of bark and leaves, each
ripply panel the equivalent
of a chapter from a dream.
I wonder what pattern
I could pull from my own
dreams, especially if
I've forgotten about them
as soon as I open my eyes.
I think everyone should be
given a chance to make something
tangible from a dream at least
once: a recipe dictated in
a dream, a dress with glorious
detail they've only ever seen
in a dream. A mural or
collage in which wild-
flowers open their mouths
like a choir to sing the most
unforgettable songs heard
by the human ear.




 
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