{"id":17197,"date":"2015-09-11T10:13:20","date_gmt":"2015-09-11T14:13:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=17197"},"modified":"2015-09-11T10:13:20","modified_gmt":"2015-09-11T14:13:20","slug":"in-the-right-light-which-is-sometimes-no-light-at-all","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2015\/09\/in-the-right-light-which-is-sometimes-no-light-at-all\/","title":{"rendered":"In the Right Light (Which Is Sometimes No Light at All)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"'New<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: Art Spiegelman’s black-on-black cover for the <\/em>New Yorker issue immediately following the 9\/11 attack (left, above) has been justly famous from the time of its publication. Less often reproduced, but equally effective, was Ana Juan’s cover for the first-year anniversary issue (right), which achieved its effects with light and the <\/em>absence of black.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n

Buried under all the mute experiences are those unseen ones that give our life its form, its color, and its melody. Then, when we turn to these treasures, as archaeologists of the soul, we discover how confusing they are. The object of contemplation refuses to stand still, the words bounce off the experience and in the end, pure contradictions stand on the paper. For a long time, I thought it was a defect, something to be overcome. Today I think it is different: that recognition of the confusion is the ideal path to understanding these intimate yet enigmatic experiences. That sounds strange, even bizarre, I know. But ever since I have seen the issue in this light, I have the feeling of being really awake and alive for the first time.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Pascal Mercier [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

A Reward<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tired and hungry, late in the day, impelled
\nto leave the house and search for what
\nmight lift me back to what I had fallen away from,
\nI stood by the shore waiting.
\nI had walked in the silent woods:
\nthe trees withdrew into their secrets.
\nDusk was smoothing breadths of silk
\nover the lake, watery amethyst fading to gray.
\nDucks were clustered in sleeping companies
\nafloat on their element as I was not
\non mine. I turned homeward, unsatisfied.
\nBut after a few steps, I paused, impelled again
\nto linger, to look North before nightfall—the expanse
\nof calm, of calming water, last wafts
\nof rose in the few high clouds.
\nAnd was rewarded:
\nthe heron, unseen for weeks, came flying
\nwidewinged toward me, settled
\njust offshore on his post,
\ntook up his vigil.
\nIf you ask<\/span>
\nwhy this cleared a fog from my spirit,
\nI have no answer.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Denise Levertov [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Heaven Is Not Verbose: A Notebook<\/strong>
\n(excerpt)<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Reader: So you want me to feel as if I were reading a letter addressed to someone else?
\nPoet: I want you to feel as if I<\/em> had read a letter addressed to you by someone else and am shamelessly quoting from it.<\/p>\n[…]\n

Reader: Do you want me to recognize my everyday world in your poems?
\nPoet: No, I want your world to seem unfamiliar to you, once you take your eyes off the text.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Vera Pavlova [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

A Short History of the Shadow<\/strong><\/p>\n

Thanksgiving, dark of the moon.
\nNothing down here in the underworld but vague shapes and black holes,
\nHeaven resplendent but virtual
\nAbove me,
\ntrees stripped and triple-wired like Irish harps.<\/span>
\nLights on Pantops<\/span> and Free Bridge<\/span> mirror the eastern sky.
\nUnder the bridge is the river,
\nthe red Rivanna.<\/span>
\nUnder the river\u2019s redemption, it says in the book,
\nIt says in the book,
\nThrough water and fire the whole place becomes purified,
\nThe visible by the visible, the hidden by what is hidden<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\n

…………………<\/p>\n

Each word, as someone once wrote, contains the universe.
\nThe visible carries all the invisible on its back.
\nTonight, in the unconditional, what moves in the long-limbed grasses,
\nwhat touches me<\/span>
\nAs though I didn\u2019t exist?
\nWhat is it that keeps on moving,
\na tiny pillar of smoke<\/span>
\nErect on its hind legs,
\nloose in the hollow grasses?<\/span>
\nA word I don\u2019t know yet, a little word, containing infinity,
\nNoiseless and unrepentant, in sift through the dry grass.
\nUnder the tongue is the utterance.
\nUnder the utterance is the fire, and then the only end of fire.<\/p>\n

…………………<\/p>\n

Only Dante, in Purgatory, casts a shadow,
\nL\u2019ombra della carne<\/em>, the shadow of flesh—
\neveryone else is<\/em> one.<\/span>
\nThe darkness that flows from the world\u2019s body, gloomy spot,
\nPre-dogs our footsteps, and follows us,
\ndiaphanous bodies<\/span>
\nWatching the nouns circle, and watching the verbs circle,
\nTill one of them enters the left ear and becomes a shadow
\nItself, sweet word in the unwaxed ear.
\nThis is a short history of the shadow, one part of us that\u2019s real.
\nThis is the way the world looks
\nIn late November,
\nno leaves on the trees, no ledge to foil the lightfall.<\/span><\/p>\n

…………………<\/p>\n

No ledge in early December either, and no ice,
\nLa Ni\u00f1a unhosing the heat pump
\nup from the Gulf,<\/span>
\nOrange Crush sunset over the Blue Ridge,
\nNo shadow from anything as evening gathers its objects
\nAnd eases into earshot.
\nUnder the influx the outtake,
\nLeon Battista Alberti<\/span> says,<\/span>
\nSome lights are from stars, some from the sun
\nAnd moon, and other lights are from fires.
\nThe light from the stars makes the shadow equal to the body.
\nLight from fire makes it greater,
\nthere, under the tongue, there, under the utterance.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Charles Wright [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

What I Know<\/strong>
\n(excerpt)<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

1. I know that language is within the world and that, at the same time, the world is within language. I know we are at the border between language and the world.<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

20. I know that, seen from the border between language and the world, the universe is in increasing entropy. But I no longer know what it is if I climb to the top of a tree (one of these trees on the border between language and the world), from where you can see far into language and far into the world at the same time.21. Because I have scaled a tree, I know that beyond language is a huge plain, with dark flowers and little mazy footpaths.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Patrick Dubost [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: Art Spiegelman’s black-on-black cover for the New Yorker issue immediately following the 9\/11 attack (left, above) has been justly famous from the time of its publication. Less often reproduced, but equally effective, was Ana Juan’s cover for the first-year anniversary issue (right), which achieved its effects with light and the absence of black.] From […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,94,250,5,50,251],"tags":[850,941,1786,1994,2576,3227,3903,4162,4163,4164],"class_list":{"0":"post-17197","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-02_in-the-news","9":"category-art","10":"category-06_writing","11":"category-language-writing_cat","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"tag-denise-levertov","14":"tag-charles-wright","15":"tag-vera-pavlova","16":"tag-light","17":"tag-2576","18":"tag-shadows","19":"tag-patrick-dubost","20":"tag-art-spiegelman","21":"tag-ana-juan","22":"tag-pascal-mercier","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4tn","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17197","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17197"}],"version-history":[{"count":27,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17197\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17224,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17197\/revisions\/17224"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17197"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17197"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17197"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}