Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Snow. The willows have begun to bud. They are a curious green/gold/ocre
(a callow sexy color) and hairy. There on the pond is an archipelago of
snow, a funny deco swirl with empty round places in the middle of it
like Mickey Mouse ears. The shape is so like something I've been
working on in this week's drawings that I laugh aloud with recognition
when I see it. If God had written I love you in footprints in the snow or in
pigeons crossing the sky, I would not be more taken with it. I think.
I stood on the Japanese bridge and memorized it. Memorized also
the way the overlying branches made shadows at the ice's edge and
how--wonder to behold--the pattern of the melts was almost identical
to the shadows, kind of a visual pun yet again. Nature in perpetual
contrapuntal imitation of it self, inside and out, and on all levels
signalling processes and imagery on others. There is inside and
outside, of course, but thousands of gradients between--semi-imi-inside
and vice versa. At anyrate, I smiled at the ice melting on the pond
untilI got cold. Then went to the museum where I studied a
Roman Sarcophagous with Dionysus and entourage (Dionysus seated on
a panther)and the ruined busts of many great Romans, including Hadrian,
and Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus, and Etruscan bronzes--
there is a jar handle made in the form of two winged boys carrying
their dead companion--and another such trio, the two youths
now wingless.
Returning home, I crossed the bridge again, but this time the snow
had sunk beneath the water, and the pattern was submerged.
(new york; feb. 1991)

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