[Image: unretouched photograph of an anamorphically-painted building interior, by French artist George Rousse; I found it here. As suggested at that site, be sure to see the video about Rousse’s “Durham (NC) project.” And while you’re at it, check out the similar but sometimes entire city-sized work of Swiss artist Felice Varini. I couldn’t decide which artist’s work to feature here and finally flipped a coin.]
From whiskey river:
Flaws
I had been worrying once again
about sad lives
and almost perfect art, Van Gogh,Kafka, so when that voice on the radio
sang about drinking
a toast to those who most survivethe lives they’ve led, I drank that toast
in the prayerless
sanctum of my room, I said itout loud in a hush. Then I thought
of Dr. Williams
who toward the end apologizedto his wife for doing everything
he had loved to do.
He was speaking of course to death,not to her, though death instructed him
how valuable she was.
I thought of a lamp the neighbor’s childhad broken, then pieced back together
with wires and glue.
And my friend, the good husband,kissing the scars his wife brought home
after the mastectomy.
I drank that toast again, though silently.The radio was playing something old
and bad
I once thought was good.Flaws. Suddenly the act of trying
to say how it feels
to live a life, to say it flawlessly,seemed more immense than ever. Then
I remembered
those Persian rug makers built them in,the flaws, because only Allah was perfect.
What arrogance to think
that otherwise they wouldn’t be there!I allowed myself to wonder
about the ethics
of repair, but just for a while.Sleep, too, was on my mind
and I knew
the difficulty that lay ahead:how hard I’d try when I couldn’t,
how it would come
if only I could find a wayto enter and drift without concern
for what it is.
(Stephen Dunn [source])
…and:
I keep following this sort of hidden river of my life, you know, whatever the topic or impulse which comes, I follow it along trustingly. And I don’t have any sense of its coming to a kind of crescendo, or of its petering out either. It is just going steadily along.
(William Stafford [source])