February 2012
6 posts
4 tags
“Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning...”
– Richard Silken, “Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”
Ambedo:
n. a kind of melacholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.