John McCabe: If a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his ass so much, follow me?
“In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;
In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love” — Alfred, Lord Tennyson
🍄 Vision connects you. But it also separates you. In my work, and my life, I feel a desire to merge. Not in terms of losing my own identity… but there’s a feeling that life is interconnected, that there’s life in stones and rocks and trees and dirt, like there is in us. — Bill Viola 🍄
“The Earth we share is not just a rock tossed through space, but a living, nurturing being.
She cares for us, she deserves our care in return.” — Michael Jackson 🌍
“Then “love,” or “falling in love,” an extra density
textured into the weave of the days, a craziness,
an orchidaceous inter-dimensional blossoming
of the otherwise-linear creatures we were.”
— Albert Goldbarth
Peonies
By Mary Oliver
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open —
pools of lace,
white and pink —
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities —
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore.”
― James Fenimore Cooper, The Deerslayer
Maverick Mist 