le poesie di peppino impastato
(a perspective of the sea, of space, of time)
Lunga è la notte
e senza tempo.
Il cielo gonfio di pioggia
non consente agli occhi
di vedere le stelle.
Non sarà il gelido vento
a riportare la luce,
nè il canto del gallo,
nè il pianto di un bimbo.
Troppo lunga è la notte,
senza tempo,
infinita.
_________________
I miei occhi giacciono
in fondo al mare
nel cuore delle alghe
e dei coralli.
_______________________
Seduto se ne stava
e silenzioso
stretto a tenaglia
tra il cielo e la terra
e gli occhi
fissi nell'abisso
________________________
tra il cielo e la terra e gli occhi fissi nell'abisso!!!!
February 29, 2008
February 20, 2008
February 18, 2008
language isolation
it's too cliche, too easy, to say i fear the unknown
(herb says the sky is blue because the sea is)
(herb says the sky is blue because the sea is)
sinking or maybe floating
can someone please tell me how i am lost and why am i lost? can someone please tell me where am i going and why i am going there?
February 11, 2008
February 9, 2008
how far can i swim?
when i was younger, i never feared the sea.
i was oblivious to the man-of-war warnings; i swam and ran about with sand in my suit. the sea was my source of giggling, a time of exploration.
now the sea is just my preoccupation. it fills the gaps between us. it elongates my worry, my desires. and i can't stop thinking about time.
i was oblivious to the man-of-war warnings; i swam and ran about with sand in my suit. the sea was my source of giggling, a time of exploration.
now the sea is just my preoccupation. it fills the gaps between us. it elongates my worry, my desires. and i can't stop thinking about time.
February 7, 2008
February 3, 2008
on reading a wave
(a professor so conveniently read this chapter aloud in class a couple weeks ago. it just so happens that an italian wrote it. and it just so happens that its about the sea (and etc). how quaint. so i've added it here for your own contemplation as well.)
Reading a Wave di Italo Calvino, Mr. Palomar
The sea is barely wrinkled, and little waves strike the sandy shore. Mr. Palomar is standing on the shore, looking at a wave. Not that he is lost in contemplation of the waves. He is not lost, because he is quite aware of what he is doing: he wants to look at a wave and he is looking at it. He is not contemplating, because for contemplation you need the right temperament, the right mood, and the right combination of exterior circumstances; and though Mr. Palomar has nothing against contemplation in principle, none of these three conditions applies to him. Finally, it is not "the waves" that he means to look at, but just one individual wave: in his desire to avoid vague sensations, he establishes for his every action a limited and precise object.
Mr. Palomar sees a wave rise in the distance, grow, approach, change form and color, fold over itself, break, vanish, and flow again. At this point he could convince himself that he has concluded the operation he had set out to achieve, and he could go away. But isolating one wave is not easy, separating it from the wave immediately following, which seems to push it and at times overtakes it and sweeps it away; and it is no easier to separate that one wave from the preceding wave, which seems to drag it toward the shore, unless it turns against the following wave, as if to arrest it, Then, if you consider the breadth of the wave, parallel to the shore, it is hard to decide where the advancing front extends regularly and where it is separated and segmented into independent waves, distinguished by their speed, shape, force, direction.
In other words, you cannot observe a wave without bearing in mind the complex features that concur in shaping it and the other, equally complex ones that the wave itself originates.
to read the rest go here.
Reading a Wave di Italo Calvino, Mr. Palomar
The sea is barely wrinkled, and little waves strike the sandy shore. Mr. Palomar is standing on the shore, looking at a wave. Not that he is lost in contemplation of the waves. He is not lost, because he is quite aware of what he is doing: he wants to look at a wave and he is looking at it. He is not contemplating, because for contemplation you need the right temperament, the right mood, and the right combination of exterior circumstances; and though Mr. Palomar has nothing against contemplation in principle, none of these three conditions applies to him. Finally, it is not "the waves" that he means to look at, but just one individual wave: in his desire to avoid vague sensations, he establishes for his every action a limited and precise object.
Mr. Palomar sees a wave rise in the distance, grow, approach, change form and color, fold over itself, break, vanish, and flow again. At this point he could convince himself that he has concluded the operation he had set out to achieve, and he could go away. But isolating one wave is not easy, separating it from the wave immediately following, which seems to push it and at times overtakes it and sweeps it away; and it is no easier to separate that one wave from the preceding wave, which seems to drag it toward the shore, unless it turns against the following wave, as if to arrest it, Then, if you consider the breadth of the wave, parallel to the shore, it is hard to decide where the advancing front extends regularly and where it is separated and segmented into independent waves, distinguished by their speed, shape, force, direction.
In other words, you cannot observe a wave without bearing in mind the complex features that concur in shaping it and the other, equally complex ones that the wave itself originates.
to read the rest go here.
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