Saturday, 4 February 2017

Бостанджийски/Gourds


About as gnarled and mottled and nobbled
as I am. That feeling of being released
from time. That simple unconcern.
That just being That being here
and now and not thinking.
That emptiness. That moment
before everything had to be.
That theory which pushes us back
to the oscillation of particles
(which may never have existed)
in the vast loneliness of space.
And then dragged us forward
into consciousness and mapping
those horizons and a grammar
that we take for granted
and the whole concept
of vegetables and land and shops
and our sitting here, in a kitchen,
with what we are about to receive
and for which we can only be
inadequately thankful.



Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips


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