Tag Archives: Living

The Mimic and The Mimesis

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Nomadic agency was quilted on the farm

boundaries-patterns emerge,

to be sewn to the edge of what feels to be safe—————distanced from the phenomena yet to be encountered.

Demarcated threads of who we are, who we were

stitched in prior knowledge of space—

-a background of unchanging identities carries no light to the edge of the pier.

Horizontal lines of earth and fire

transversed by the vertical,

the depth of air and water.

Boundaries-patterns dissolve in the sinking abyss

rising over the reflections—the many faces we wear

flying out on the wing,

receptivity to the space-between the mirror and its projections.

Let us begin with the unexpected.

-Joshua Fleming

Image by: Yamasaki Ko-Ji

http://www.yamasakiko-ji.com

 

 

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What Will You Do?

What will you do, God, when I die?

I,
the jar of fire-flies waving through the dark, ( if cracked, will I lie?)

Your secretive well-spring (if removed will the well go dry?)
The craft, the vesture that am I,
To lose all meaning, loosening me from your grasp.

When it is that I go, your cold house will be
Empty of language that made it sweet.
I, the sandals, your bare feet
Will seek and long for passage.

Your cloak shall fall from weary bones.
Your glance, my warmth has awakened
will depart.
What wonder will be removed from the mask
and a sun that disappears,
lies now in the lap of unknown stones.

What will you do, God?

-Joshua Fleming (remixing a translation of Rainer Maria Rilke)

Know Thyself

leafs

Reflected from the golden apple, hissing with arched tongue, to give formlessness structure.

With great diligence I seek to study, not to understand, but to know. That when I stand and leave this house, that I will have lived in its every corner.

Image and words by: Josh Fleming

Inspired by T.S. Eliot and William Butler Yeats, some words swallowed and spat back at the screen from poets gone by.

 

 

 

 

 

Resplendent Empathy

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Rhythms peer out over the pulse, a hawks hood of feather, tracks of impression left indebted to follow. An edifying return, warm laps of wind, thinking not of thoughts, but rather in an exchange of inference, an inflection of speaking wisdoms embodied by the contours of the foots fall. Free from learned form, to slip gently back into the shadow, to swim out over the hill. Learn to walk slow, listen deeply. Beyond the pattern of the familiar is the groundswell of a breathing world. Such a delicate noose. Poets nurture their craft, to frame the word, the sound, the delicacy of knowing a moment, as it is lifted from the earth and sacrificed to the page. To try and gift some measure as to gleam in the reader’s eye, to awaken some ancient murmur still beating in the cords of the heart. As death comes swiftly for us all, but life is forgiving of borrowed time, as time can be slowed, if we are willing to walk within its pace, to venture into its pasture and lie withs its passage. Engrained in wood are truths evident in speaking, in stone, entombed memories of a shifting perspective. As light gathers behind tall mountains, to tell us a story of our long walk. Will it reside only in the distant flocks of memory, in the grazing stones, or will it blossom in the active imagination of a child. To walk backwards, but gain a forwarding momentum. Beyond the prison walls, a world awaits to be of its company. We are social beings, that have forgotten to invite ourselves over the threshold, to be a guest in this house, to give respect and to be beheld by its revery. Honor can only be bestowed on those that would listen before attempting to speak a language that has gifted its vital ear, its broken back, its breathing breathe, so that we may walk along its spine and bear witness to its story.

-Josh Fleming

Inspired by: Dr. Martin Shaw, Scatterlings

http://drmartinshaw.com

Image by: Andreas Levers

https://www.behance.net/gallery/17617151/The-Modern-World-5

LXI

WHEN at last you are come to the ocean of happiness, do not go back thirsty.
Wake, foolish man! for Death stalks you. Here is pure water before you; drink it at every breath.
Do not follow the mirage on foot, but thirst for the nectar;
Dhruva, Prahlad, and Shukadeva have drunk of it, and also Raidas has tasted it:
The saints are drunk with love, their thirst is for love.
Kabîr says: “Listen to me, brother! The nest of fear is broken.
Not for a moment have you come face to face with the world: p. 106
You are weaving your bondage of falsehood, your words are full of deception:
With the load of desires which you. hold on your head, how can you be light?”
Kabîr says: “Keep within you truth, detachment, and love.”

-Kabir