I dreamt she was here
for me alone
I dreamt she had red pollen in her soul
and descended upon me
with careful
lascivious beauty

radiant
she indulged any and every transgression
with inviting eyes
she took away gravity
summoned me out from myself

she shed constriction like fine silk

I dreamt of Lydia
as if no other human being had ever known me
better than she
as if our one or two solid instants of eye-contact
had precipitated the most inevitable meeting
of lips : minds : fates

I dreamt of her in corrugated morning
in chaos turned ermine luxury
shock unrolling in her eyes
a broad lakebed heated by unseen suns
demanding and retreating
in the same

it was unclear if her shock was tied
to her passion or to my reserve
or whether she saw the beginning of something
too big to keep control of
or if her own reserve was stronger
than impulse or instinct

and she was waiting for a sea change

we fell into one silent sigh
and I awoke
to the sly little sombre of her absence
rotating impermanent
putting up questions like banners
against a too-hot summer air
billowing unquiet replete

with the unmannered elegance of turning
into knowledge...

© 2007 Joseph Robertson

WRITING & NAMING: the medicine of acquiring knowledge
Joseph Robertson

Language is that point of contact in the abstract, that plane where the intellectual life within us is enabled to assert itself as part of the overall experience of living. Language is that plane where the individual self is allowed repeated attempts at manifestation. What takes place in the process of writing, in the spilling of ink or the posting of digital characters, the slip toward defining a landscape, however brief, is the sanctification of an individual, and by extension of the human condition as such...

Not every person is a writer, by trade, nor should they be, but there is something about the act of writing that serves the writing individual as if it were a medicine for selfhood, a healing venture into clean waters. Especially so when its intent is to be expressive of secret regions of the mind or to lay out new experimental vessels for such expression. [Keep reading...]

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Book of photos in halftone sepia-tinged black and white. An exploration of contrast and meaning in the textures of the everyday.

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» FROM THE FORTHCOMING PTARMIGAN
JOSEPH ROBERTSON