"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

10 April 2017

Conjuration.

Gilfillan, Mouth of the Frenchman Fork, 2000


… [T]he function of landscape conjuration changes continually, and the simple Going-out can become a reclamation of the One Day Only and an affirmation/authentication of latitude/longitude, 
a bestowal of color and protein-level relations.

The poet looking comprises an intellectual sizing, weighing. And if the writing holds, it can function by its very nature as both a 
naming and a reclaiming, a corrective and a salvaging, within the 
occupying (preoccupying) culture.

Horses in loose gangs, hillsides netted, laced, fretted with dark pines, the foreground beach-bright sunlit ochre sand, the distance stark blue-black cloud and shelf shadow. Two shiny white gumbo-ruts of a snaking road lower left to upper right, would-be day to would-be night . . .

All dayartists and their surroundings: a mediation and a bartering. And, maybe, even, one of the ultimate human stakes: “Never mortify your landscape.”

(Sursum corda.)

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