“The Chair
I’m writing to you, who made the archaic wooden chair
look like a throne while you sat on it.
Amidst your absence, I choose to sit on the floor,
which is dusty as a dry Kansas day.
I am stoic as a statue of Buddha,
not wanting to bother the old wooden chair,
which has been silent now for months.
In this sunlit moment I think of you.
I can still picture you sitting there--
your forehead wrinkled like an un-ironed shirt,
the light splashed on your face,
like holy water from St. Joseph’s.
The chair, with rounded curves
like that of a full-figured woman,
seems as mellow as a monk in prayer.
The breeze blows from beyond the curtains,
as if your spirit has come back to rest.
Now a cloud passes overhead,
and I hush, waiting to hear what rests
so heavily on the chair’s lumbering mind.
Do not interrupt, even if the wind offers to carry
your raspy voice like a wispy cloud.”
― Jarod Kintz, A Letter to Andre Breton, Originally Composed on a Leaf of Lettuce With an Ink-dipped Carrot
Amidst your absence, I choose to sit on the floor,
which is dusty as a dry Kansas day.
I am stoic as a statue of Buddha,
not wanting to bother the old wooden chair,
which has been silent now for months.
In this sunlit moment I think of you.
I can still picture you sitting there--
your forehead wrinkled like an un-ironed shirt,
the light splashed on your face,
like holy water from St. Joseph’s.
The chair, with rounded curves
like that of a full-figured woman,
seems as mellow as a monk in prayer.
The breeze blows from beyond the curtains,
as if your spirit has come back to rest.
Now a cloud passes overhead,
and I hush, waiting to hear what rests
so heavily on the chair’s lumbering mind.
Do not interrupt, even if the wind offers to carry
your raspy voice like a wispy cloud.”
― Jarod Kintz, A Letter to Andre Breton, Originally Composed on a Leaf of Lettuce With an Ink-dipped Carrot
last weekend.
Sunday.
i had a cobweb above the fireplace mantel.
for some reason.
that led me to move three large pieces of furniture.
between the living room and dining room.
seven hours of cleaning and rearranging later.
with a coffee break with my folks in between.
i was done.
i am not sure where that burst of energy came from.
but i am happy with the end results.
no sun today.
a continuation of snowing and blowing.
but just enough light to make this shadow.
and a quote about a chair.
enjoy the moments.
just BE.
robin.
I love these little weekend glimpses into your world!
ReplyDeleteThat happens to me too! Where I end up doing an insanely big and unplanned project that all started from something like going to dust the cobwebs away...
ReplyDeleteLove the poem and trying to imagine an ink dipped carrot and a lettuce leaf with writing on it!
The spirit of the loved one who passed looks pleased as it rocks in the chair once more. Perhaps the writer who sat on the floor is invited to rock too and fro by the spirit of the chair's owner...Your home is wonderful with so many eclectic details. A big project was undertaken, and the results lovely. An inviting home indeed!
ReplyDeleteGorgeous mellow atmosphere in these rooms. So warm and lovely and welcoming.
ReplyDeleteStill chuckling about the ink dipped carrot and writing on a lettuce leaf. Extraordinary.
the shadow of the chair looks a bit like a face. :) I like the letter you share. :)
ReplyDeleteA lovely post as always, Robin and, I too, love the poem! Thanks for sharing! I also love the results of your project!! Enjoy the remainder of your weekend!!
ReplyDeleteThere is so much to look at and see in the first shot. The shadow is kind of haunting. I like the character of the painted furniture.
ReplyDeleteStill grinning about that line!
ReplyDeleteHave a great Shadow Shot Sunday2, here’s mine!
Lovely feeling you have. And all that stuff - you really respect well made things.
ReplyDeleteHave good ahead!