One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back
into the darkness of the ark -- Kafka

Saturday, December 31, 2011

New Year's Resolution

I'm in Seal Beach: currently a 3D daguerroetype of landscape and fog.

I'm in Siena: Zbigniew Herbert is the docent and he's taking me from Senius to Good and Bad Government to a luna plena:

   Above the Piazza del Campo--luna plena. Shapes harden. A chord is strung between heaven and earth. Such a moment gives an intense feeling of crystallized eternity. The voices will die. The air will turn into glass. We shall remain here, petrified: I, raising a glass of wine to my lips; the girl in the window arranging her hair; the old man selling postcards under a streetlamp; the square with the Town Hall and Siena. The earth will turn with me, an unimportant exhibit in a cosmic wax museum, visited by no one.


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I don't really do resolutions--except on a daily basis--but I'll try. I've had my coffee and scone and now I'm walking it off. I resolve to floss more often (dentists have been harrassing me for years). On that note I duck into Sprouts and purchase some Tom's dental floss (on sale) and a new pair of fingernail clippers (the girls keep losing mine).

On the way home I drive by the Haynes Steam Plant (squinting eerily from the fog) or a close encounter of another kind.

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