Saturday, November 27, 2010

Alice At Home




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I can't stop going into the woods.



Something there is drawing me in.




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Yesterday I was sitting on a log, putting my shoes back on after a couple of barefoot miles. Tall pines stood between me and the sun and the air was thick with dancing motes climbing up towards the glare of the sun and the boughs shook with a small breeze and everywhere my eyes lit things were alive and moving and I thought that I was for the first time home again.

Would that I could build me a shack in them and be silent and walk until my legs fell off and then sleep under a blanket with the overhead stars banging to get in and a well full of cold water and a tin cup and a bucket to draw it and an axe and a pencil and some papers.

And a woman to kill and die for.




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Instead I do it in this small, beautiful house almost touching those woods and backing up to them.


And everywhere my eyes light there is art and magic and hard, clean beauty.



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Meanwhile, I gnaw the bone of the world between my teeth.



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Namaste.



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9 Comments:

Blogger Vespersparrow said...

Beautiful and terribly moving. You write like a dream.

5:42 PM  
Blogger Angella Lister said...

Wait, how do you do this? It's so haunting and dreamlike, you almost miss the odd detail, the something broken here.

Maybe the woods are trying to give you back to yourself. The call is inside you, maybe.

9:35 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

I, too, have had this fantasy.
http://www.blessourhearts.net/2008/11/at-home.html

6:19 AM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

I love the way your describe what you're feeling or thinking. I am never quite so clear. Feelings are always so overlappy and murky in my world.

Thanks for sharing.
pf

7:40 AM  
Blogger 21k said...

I have just the place for you and a mountain behind it --

I love these pictures you are making.

I feel a little fantasy forming, I want to send you Clara, maybe you would want to illustrate it - a small illustrated novelette, I already see her in your work and the proceeds to improve the lots of children.

Then again, you are better off to write your own text, you have it in spades.

You are something else.

8:34 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

for me it's the ocean but yes the woods too the forest. i've lived there like that. the way it makes your heart get back to its animal self. so beautifully writ and described here.

your alice takes my breath away. your alice is stunning, sir.

love,
rebecca

8:48 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Vespersparrow-

Thank you. And thanks for stopping by.



Angella-


I think you're right about the woods. As far as the art goes, and how I do it, I got no real idea. I sure have a good time at it, though.




Ms. Moon-


Of course you do. I must have absorbed it from you, your post nails it exactly.

This keeps freaking me out.



Petit Fleur-

I think that writing it down helps me understand what I'm feeling. It's all overlappy and odd and inchoate until then.

And it is after, too.


Ha.

8:48 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

21K-

Well, I wish you would.


I can't think of a thing I'd like more. Next best thing to a long visit.



So, I'll just be waiting....

8:49 AM  
Blogger Pamela said...

This is beautiful and sad, so it's fitting my word verification should be

trieste

8:10 AM  

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