I maintained that the darkness was supernatural.
Around the furnished library
light, and I shall behold its righteousness. Yea the darkness hideth
Functions of greetings of events
leading down into the opening of the judgement.
When high facts spell doom color in rocks and plow
witnesses were heard thru the land, thrilling the souls of the people.
Sore and faded, toward the purple end-
there came ones whom the flames were not to silence.
Hoarding twilight, not like the blood of the martyrs
or a train whistle slipping abruptly across midnight's deliverance.
Everything in nature seems turned out of its course.
Wouldn’t measures count this burn?"
A little while ago I started taking pictures of a page or two of books I read and enjoyed, but didn't care to keep. Just to have a little something to remember them by... I wish I didn't know I'll never feel the same way reading this little shred of them now, here, as I did for the first time.
I have somewhere around a hundred images now. Some of those pages... it's been so long I can't recall the larger context. Maybe it's just the simple 2D beauty of the lines on the page and their shapes that matter. The little hint of background. The idea that there doesn't have to be anything more here than what you see... but there could be.