Tuesday, 24 May 2011

this harsh, fiery spring



i walk through the fields of spring
in search of myself.
i carry:
the luxurious maps of being,
drawn with meticulous exactness.
a mirror, to make sure i never forget
whom exactly i look for.
a rope to jump, in case i find myself
a child again, flooded with the joy of living.
a handful of seeds to scatter, from time to time
(though more out of boredom, really,
than eagerness to become).




i make lists. i am very precise,
the same precision i use to extract dreams
out of my warm blood. for example,
what it is that stands between me and myself:
these fields, the line of burning, when
they meet the sky. this sunlit wound of waiting.
this freshly cut grass, this bird's wing.
my shadow, when you left.
the dazzling music of each step.
this endless fluttering back and forth,
again and again.




or rather this thought here, now.
the belief that i am still
- and gloriously - alive,
piercing through the heart
of this harsh, fiery spring.





  1. Thank you Roxana. I just stopped to write down on paper how I felt upon reading this, and viewing the images, and this is what I said to myself.

    It takes my breathe away,
    this divide
    of all that I must do,
    and of all
    that does not care.
    to some inaccessible
    of all those things
    that other things
    seem to share.
    It seems beautiful
    and beyond me.
    I can see and hear it,
    I can smell and taste it,
    and touch it,
    and yet,
    I cannot be it.
    Is this loneliness
    the cost
    of being me?

  2. Hello my beautiful friend Roxana, well I believe that my last comment was lost by the system so I will say again,this work is powerful both the images and the words are a magnificent affirmation of existence.

    The colours are beautiful.The luxurious greens rose and blues all colours of love and springtime renewal and growth. I love these words-luxurious maps of being, -to me this means the labyrinth of the soul the ancestral heritage the dna and all events that sculpt the soul down to the minute detail of feeling a dew drop on a leaf.

    Ilove this a handful of seeds to scatter more out of boredom than eagerness to become-
    to me this means a fun play of words but at the same time a seriousness that the essence of life is the joy of being alive, the breath
    yes a zen meditation in blue shades of green rose and ending in blue water sky earth.
    thankyou for the masterpeice.
    wishing a spring that continues to radiate through this work.

  3. did you write that or was it a cut and paste job? Really, really good. I wish you'd spoken it though. That would have been a real treat. Wonderful photos as well.

  4. Monet, Pissarro? I love the third. Beautiful.

  5. Briliant. It's like nature made from fractals, you reworked the order of things.

  6. these photos, this poem, this woman... they are all part of my becoming.

  7. such beautiful colors in the undulations of this landscape, where inevitably the soul translates space into time, outer space into inner space, translates the brilliance and waves and shadows into self, a becoming ...

    the poem, too, is wonderful, the whole ache of being and not being, at the same moment....

    "a rope to jump, in case i find myself / a child again" ... and how lucky that would be! (but i think it has already happened to you, over and over, otherwise none of this would be possible :-)

  8. I see you have pricked your finger while weaving these rich tapestries. Yes, you like this fiery spring, are gloriously alive.

  9. So alive with movement color and energy; twisting turning vibrating zinging and buzzing. Like what the world must look and sound like if one could see and here the underlying activity of waves and molecules that appear so comfortably quiet and fixed to mortal ears and eyes. I am so overcome visually, I cannot concentrate on the text though the passage "the dazzling music of each step. this endless fluttering back and forth" penetrated my consciousness. I feel inspired to dance in celebration!

  10. i listened to your words mumchance and viewed your fiery fields with fledgling ferocity.

    At first...
    (days pass)
    Then i had these questions...

    Where is this atemporal field? Can you get into a taxi and find yourself there? Or, put another way, if you had a mirror in the taxi cab - would you find a dwarf or a giant? These are fussy rhetorical questions (included for your reading pleasure).

    However, if you feel compelled to answer, out of politeness (she's so polite!), you may do so. i will block my ears for seven years (my standard time frame when dealing with haughty homonyms), till the danger of comprehension or a wheedled epiphany has passed. It's very tricky to manage one's time on a bridge such as this. Luckily, i'm up to the task. (She's so relieved and disports herself in dance. Oh, i remember, she's not fond of the gestic art.)

  11. « We are such stuff as dreams are made on. » (Shakespeare).
    Bises ;)

  12. fierce, dizzying lines .... i'd like to copy them all -
    for now, i'm just smiling a rueful (but not entirely joyless) smile while repeating "a rope to jump, in case i find myself
    a child again, flooded with the joy of living.
    a handful of seeds to scatter, from time to time
    (though more out of boredom, really,
    than eagerness to become)"

  13. "this sunlit wound of waiting".

    Maybe, may be, you don't realize how beautiful your poem is. The author has reasons different to his/her readers, and the reader invests what the authorial gaze does not know.

    It is a giddyingly beautiful poem, you know?

  14. Dan, this is so beautiful, achingly so - and it echoes everything i felt when writing this, everything i have always felt. i can't say anything else than thank you, humbly so, gratefully so, dear friend...

    dear Madeleine, how happy i am to see you here, despite the harshness of this fiery spring :-) i am also happy that you have resonated with my colours and words, joy and longing, and sorrow too.
    thank you and spring is still very much here, warmer but still with rain and thunder...
    je t'embrasse de tout coeur!

    billoo, wonderful to see you haven't left the Bridge! but why are you keen on annoying me, when have i cut and paste anything here, without acknowledging that i was doing just that?! however, i am magnanimous tonight, i will just let that pass :-)

    anon, thank you for the praise! :-)

  15. i am happy you like it so, Vladimir, i took these from the car window, on my way to Bucharest and back :-)

    Cristina, the Bridge trembles with joy, every time you walk upon it.

    James, you made me smile, not only your wonderful words, but that image of me finding my childhood self all over again, how can i not smile? if only this could be true... but perhaps it is, every time i press the button...

  16. Lynne, maybe a witch gave me the spindle, and i have slept for a 100 years, then i awoke just to see the beauty of these spring fields :-) and to welcome you all on this Bridge, of course, heavy with 100-years springs and winters :-)

    Stickup, aaahh, this is so wonderful, that my post inspired you to dance, what could i wish more? these Danube fields are so different than your mountains and deserts, yet they are pervaded with the same life vibration, aren't they? despite the different feel of the air, the different colours, different hues of the sky - the song of the earth is everywhere the same.

    Prospero, so delusional, thinking you are up to whatever task here on the Bridge, don't you know this world is nothing but a huge Fata Morgana? :-) no taxi can bring you here, no maps - and in the mirrors you will only see your endless faces. though perhaps, if you persevere, you will get to see your true face as well, the only one, the one you have been long looking for.

    Chere K'line, j'adore ce vers, il est si vrai, n'est-ce pas? mais tu le sais aussi bien que moi, il suffit de regarder tes photos... :-)

  17. ffflaneur, how i'd like to see that rueful (but not entirely joyless) smile!!! :-)

    Kubla, you are right, i don't know. i am happy you came here to tell me this, i will gratefully accept your judgement. and i am happy you think so, you feel so.

  18. Tes images sont d'une poésie incroyable ! Elles s'apparentent décidemment au monde du rêve, une sorte de vision opaque, nette, floue d'un songe sur le printemps !

  19. Hmmm... car window ? This time I'll let it pass as the images are wonderful :).

  20. Jeff, maintenant tu prononces le mot 'flou' et je me mets a sourire, et tu sais pourquoi :-) desolee, encore pas de cerises ici, mais je te promets que je vais t'en montrer des que je le peux. peut-etre pas dans un arbre comme chez toi, mais dans un panier d'ou se sert une de mes beautes :-)

  21. haha Vladimir, what is wrong with the car window?! it certainly goes well with my non-conceptual approach :-P but ok, just for you, next time i will post some taken from the train window :-)))

  22. Intoxicated by your images. Twilight, dream-scape, that elusive something gleaned just at the instant one closes or opens one's eyes. After-images. Wanting to step into these landscapes but knowing I might not come back out. Beautiful. Dangerous. Reality is the shadow.

  23. This and the previous sakura petal are astoundingly beautiful. The medium restricts them: one kept wanting to be able to rearrange and superimpose them a little as could be done using layers of acetate.

  24. La fusion des éléments après la longue nuit hivernale... l’éveil des sens ,des couleurs , ces lignes océanes ,entre terre et ciel ,eau et feu...la renaissance après le silence...tout cela drapé d'un léger voile de mélancolie...tu enchantes mon âme Belle Amie..et je t'embrasse..

  25. Marjojo!!! how delighted i am with your visit, and your words are a poem themselves... thank you, i don't know how to thank you for this joy...

    Michael T., thank you for coming to the Bridge again, i am very moved by your interest in my work... that is a great idea and i am sure one could experiment with it, but i don't really know how... though i tried to play with the sakura petals in another medium too, you will see the result in the next post...

    ah, Clo ma chere, malgre tout tu as trouve le temps de venir ici et de m'ecrire tes billets pleines de tendresse, j'en suis si emue... inspiree par tes coquelicots, je vais essayer d'aller dans les champs de nouveau, voir si j'en trouve aussi :-)
    bisous, bisous, bisous