at the end of the lane she said, 'it's this way, come on,' and turned up a path into the forest, walking fast in her sling-back shoes, her lips pursed, chin tilted down so the marcel wave hung forward like a closed curtain. they came to a plank footbridge suspended on ropes over a ravine. slipping off the pointed white shoes and dangling them from a hooked finger, she stepped out in her stockings onto the bridge over crashing water, then paused to look back. 'don't come,' she said. 'you should wait here.'
barbara kingsolver, the lacuna
he has traded beauty in for fun.
destroyer
i've spent this week visiting family
& exploring the american southwest, which is
geographical & desert in a way i've never seen before.
there is so much sunlight and even the
lavender in my cousin's santa fe garden
sparkles like seaglass.
these cities are hewn from turquoise and clay.
there are mountains and creatures and mountains again,
all 'a penny plain + two pence colored.'
i study them like kodak slides, like root systems; i am
seeking the final equidistance
between form + colour.
black wasps with amber wings, piñon pine, fireworks.
No comments:
Post a Comment