Monday, January 31, 2011

Ducks XIV

All drawings untitled 2004

While it is alive
Until Death touches it
While it and I lap one Air
Dwell in one Blood
Under one Sacrament
Show me Division can split or pare-

Love is like Life- merely longer
Love is like Death, during the Grave
Love is the Fellow of the Resurrection
Scooping up the Dust and chanting "Live"!
Emily Dickinson

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Ducks XIII

All drawings untitled 2004

All the letters I can write
Are not fair as this-
Syllables of Velvet-
Sentences of Plush,
Depths of Ruby, undrained,
Hid, Lip, for Thee-
Play it were a Humming Bird-
And just sipped- me-
Emily Dickinson

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Ducks XII

All drawings untitled 2004

The difference between Despair
And Fear- is like the One
Between the instant of a Wreck-
And when the Wreck has been-

The Mind is smooth- no Motion-
Contented as the Eye
Upon the Forehead of a Bust-
That knows- it cannot see-
Emily Dickinson

Friday, January 28, 2011

Ducks XI

All drawings untitled 2004

What I can do- I will-
Though it be as little as a Daffodil-
That I cannot- must be
Unknown to possibility-
Emily Dickinson

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Ducks X

All drawings untitled 2004

I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery-
Others- whose instant's wanting-
Would be Eternity-

The last- a scanty Number-
'Twould scarcely fill a Two-
The first- A Gnat's Horizon
Could easily outgrow-
Emily Dickinson

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Ducks IX

All drawings untitled 2004

Least Bee that brew-
A Honey's Weight
The Summer multiply-
Content Her smallest fraction help
The Amber Quantity-
Emily Dickinson

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Ducks VIII

All drawings untitled 2004


He who hopes to grow in spirit
will have to transcend obedience and respect.
He'll hold to some laws
but he'll mostly violate
both law and custom, and go beyond
the established, inadequate norm.
Sensual pleasures will have much to teach him.
He won't be afraid of the destructive act:
half the house will have to come down.
This way he'll grow virtuously into wisdom.
C. P. Cavafy

Monday, January 24, 2011

Ducks VII

All drawings untitled 2004


One candle is enough. Its gentle light
will be more suitable, will be more gracious
when the Shades come, the Shades of Love.

One candle is enough. Tonight the room
should not have too much light. In deep reverie,
all receptiveness, and with the gentle light-
in this deep reverie I'll form visions
to call up the Shades, the Shades of Love.
C. P. Cavafy

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Ducks VI

All drawings untitled 2004


'For the gods perceive things in the future, ordinary
people things in the present, but the wise perceive
things about to happen.'
                Philostratos, 'Life of Apollonios of Tyana', viii, 7.

Ordinary mortals know what's happening now,
the gods know what the future holds
because they alone are totally enlightened.
Wise men are aware of future things
just about to happen.

Sometimes during moments of intense study
their hearing's troubled: the hidden sound
of things approaching reaches them,
and they listen reverently, while in the street outside
the people hear nothing whatsoever.
C. P. Cavafy

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Ducks V

All drawings untitled 2004


Come back often and take hold of me,
sensation that I love, come back and take hold of me-
when the body's memory revives
and an old longing again passes through the blood,
when lips and skin remember
and hands feel as though they touch again.

Come back often, take hold of me in the night
when lips and skin remember...
C. P. Cavafy

Friday, January 21, 2011

Ducks IV

All drawings untitled 2004


Like the beautiful bodies of those who died before growing 
sadly shut away in a sumptuous mausoleum,
roses by the head, jasmine at the feet-
so appear the longings that have passed
without being satisfied, not one of them granted
a single night of pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings.
C. P. Cavafy

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Ducks III

All drawings untitled 2004


Loved, idealized voices
of those who have died, or of those
lost for us like the dead.

Sometimes they speak to us in dreams;
sometimes deep in thought the mind hears them.

And, with their sound, for a moment return
sounds from our life's first poetry-
like distant music fading away at night.
C. P. Cavafy

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Ducks II

All drawings untitled 2004


In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren't there to be found-
or at least I can't find them. And perhaps
it's better if I don't find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
C. P. Cavafy