May. 14th, 2016 03:15 pm
anonymousblack: (darkest leaf)
look out into it, i said, look out over it, i said, look deep down, look high up: and below us the shock of green earth, and above us the overcast sky. the wind is sweet, the wind carries water, carries the memory of sun, carries the scent of clay and slate; the wind carries my answer. what is my answer? i say it as though i haven't considered my questions, haven't learned i only have one when i thought i only have one in certain corners of the room. i only have a question when there are no gestating answers and: i lean into it i collapse into it i fall over myself like i'm one with somewhere to fall, i remember just enough to i remember just enough to valley every hill i remember just enough to back up the white cliffs, the eyes and talons at the tear in the heavens. the ground opening up, the open ground open with absolutes, with killing absolutes, there isn't an absolute visible for miles around the ground zero of my life, but then again i think that's how it's supposed to be. you know what it's like when you've been staring for decades at the answer you've pleaded for for years. you know what it's like, realizing your greatest mystery is another person's daily housekeeping. you know what it's like when we stand tall, stand out, stand up for years: or we do not, we simply assume we do, and the wind blows with sweet humidity, the wind blows with all that is spring, and all that is spring and spring unfolds, every blade, every bud, every green blade and every splitting bud and spring unfold every year every year again, splitting the buds and greening the blades.

walking through the dropping cliff shore, wandering through that slight sweet spring humidity, sometimes it's enough to simply know and sometimes it isn't. look out over it. look down into it. look out: there's something we need to know about. look. look, there's something we need to see. what are we seeing? there's a matter in the heavens, a matter high above, a matter at the break in the heavens, something about to come to term. there's a matter crowning now over the heavens and if we step back, if we left it to work itself through, if we close our eyes and let it drop. if there wasn't any matter but the matter before us, if there wasn't anything left but those matters we've abandoned ourselves to, if there isn't anything and there isn't anything and there isn't anything again, we'll fall out over ourselves with it we'll gather up the spilled efforts and uncanny circumstances. we'll make it something other than it is and then again and then really what we've made it has something to do with what it is and we can't say for certain if that is accurate, literally, or if that's a dark mirroring, if that's definition by omission, if that's i don't know but here it is again, and again, and then the heavens in alignment the heavens hold it all in place. the heavens holding in the silence, not a flash of lightening, not a rumble of thunder. everything holds for a moment, everything gives offering to stillness: even chaos, even rage. if you miss the silence before the beginning you'll still be listening for the silence after the end. and listen, there will be an answer. and listen, your answer is waiting for you. everything is out there: every answer and every mystery, every known and monotonous, every new and dangerous, every pink and plastic, every white and brittle, every crumbling brown. we are lists, we are categories. that everything in one's personal universe fits under one vague genera sign. but, then again

anonymousblack: (then again maybe i won't)
so there's this filmstrip that they used to make us watch in gradeschool. because we were kids and it was a kid's movie so it was supposed to make us happy. live action, color, very faded quality about it, maybe from the sixties? there's this boy and he has a pet hawk, i think. some kind of bird of prey. they have love and deep and profound friendship but the town shuns them, also some other stuff happens. the boy is eventually driven away from civilization. he decides to live in a cave. with the bird. he fixes it up real nice, that cave. you're starting to think, geez, maybe i'd kind of like to live in a cave with my forbidden lover who is a hawk. and it's good, it's really good for a while, until some rocks fall on the boy and then tar bleeds out of the walls and the bird gets confused and flies around in circles or maybe that's egyptian mythology. but the boy is definitely trapped under a rock and there is definitely tar puking out of the cave walls and something almost certainly has gone awry with the bird. and he's screaming and screaming his pathetic little boy throat raw for someone to save him. but because he's been shunned for bird love, no one can hear him. and oh, god, it is horrible. my memory is that this scene goes on for hours. it might be the bird saves him eventually or maybe he just drowns in tar and the bird is sad. i was sad. for many reasons. i despised this film. i loathed this film. i cried every time they made us watch it. there wasn't enough fucking hawaiian punch at horizon elementary to wash the filthy sensation of it away. and they always made us watch it in grade school, every year i think, because it was supposed to be a happy treat. or maybe they only made us watch it twice? it was definitely more than once, though, because i remember having to put my head down and cry when they told us we were watching it that day because oh god make it stop not again it's happening again the cave and the tar and it never ends.

so my question to you, livejournal, is: what was the name of this goddamn movie?


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selva oscura

April 2017

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