All drawings untitled 2004
How a bird's cry can move us...
Any once-created crying.
But even children playing
in the open cry beyond real cries...,
Cry accident. They drive their screams'
wedges into those interstices
of cosmic space (in which bird-cries
go unharmed, as men go into dreams).
Oh where are we? Freer and freer,
like kites torn loose, tattered by wind,
we race in midair, edged with laughter.
Singing god, order the criers,
so they awake resounding like a current
carrying the head and the lyre.
Rilke
(The Sonnets to Orpheus: Second Series)
