Posts

Evidence

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I told her how after finding out our mother had been up in court when we were small I’d … looked up stuff about courtrooms online, and … read there that judges’ and lawyers’ wigs had traditionally been made and still more often than not were made of horsehair. … It means horses have been a little bit present at every important thing, just or unjust, carried out in a courtroom in this country since the seventeenth century. Wow, she said. So many bits of dead gone horse on so many powerful people’s heads, yeah? Imagine real horses in there. Imagine them there at the trial … We should all be being judged and decided about by horses ...    Ali Smith, Gliff A bronzewing pigeon makes its see-through raft of twigs less than a metre off the ground in a little juniper tree in the garden and lays two eggs there. The bird sits for a few days, but then I find the nest skewed and abandoned, one egg gone. Probably a currawong or...

Together

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                 … the river still glinting-up into its handfuls, heapings.                                                                                        glassy                forgettings under the river of                my attention –                and the river of my attention laying itself down –                 ...

Doubts

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                                     The place where we are right                                      is hard and trampled                                      like a yard.                                      But doubts and loves                                      dig up the world                                                                    ...

Regardless

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               The plants that push up through the junk and the plastic, earlier, later, they’re coming,                   regardless... … the light shifts regardless. The truth is a kind of regardless. The winter’s nothing to me. Do you think I don’t know about power? You think I was born green? I was. … I’ll blow down that tree so it cracks your roof open. I’ll carpet your house with the                          river. But I’ll be the reason your own sap’s reviving. I’ll mainline the light to your veins. What’s under your road surface now? What’s under your house’s foundations? What’s warping your doors? What’s giving your world the fresh colours? What’s the key to the song of the bird?                           ...

Every day

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                                                  The moon and sun are eternal travelers.  Even the years wander on.                                        A lifetime adrift in a boat or in old age leading a tired horse into the years,                                        every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.        ...

Conditions

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                                        … in the flattest part of North Dakota                                         on a starless moonless night                                         no breath of wind                                         a man could light a candle                                         then walk away                   ...

Brood

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                                                            The commonplace miracle:                                                             that so many common miracles take place.                                                             The usual miracle:                                                             Invisible dogs barking               ...