Read the answer, if you can, in the starry blue firmament.
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"Have I not been trying to use the obstacle Of language well? It freezes around us." I find myself thinking of the poem 'Malcolm Mooney's Land' by the Scottish poet W.S. Graham as the structure of waking life begins to shudder with the strange a-temporality of days that barely blossom before they slip into night. It is a crystalline thing, this poem, an isolated voice speaking from the cold white of disconnected paper.
Read the answer, if you can, in the starry blue firmament.
Read the answer, if you can, in the starry…
Read the answer, if you can, in the starry blue firmament.
"Have I not been trying to use the obstacle Of language well? It freezes around us." I find myself thinking of the poem 'Malcolm Mooney's Land' by the Scottish poet W.S. Graham as the structure of waking life begins to shudder with the strange a-temporality of days that barely blossom before they slip into night. It is a crystalline thing, this poem, an isolated voice speaking from the cold white of disconnected paper.