Sunday, August 14, 2016

14 August 2016

The experience of poignancy involves a simultaneous awareness of some particular's mortality. Poignancy isn't consolation, but perhaps it's muse (with or without apostrophe). A friend says he doesn't so much like my aphorisms, prefers the stories. Like cars on a ship, stripped clean of valuables, though still capable of transport on the other side. Transport to the other side's another matter. Indifferent or no, that side's got glamor when it's not plain terrifying. [He] said universes upon universes opened up--there were no drugs involved--and there was nothing that wasn't possible. That was 20 years ago. [He] came to me with tears in his eyes and said he wanted to talk to someone. Not I. “Eyes well up” suggests plenitude, as if in awareness there's always already too-much. My father's full eyes prove a lineage.

--14 August 2016

[Zwicky #71]

No comments: