Tagore THE RECALL Those that used to play are playing still,so spendthrift is life. I listen to their chatter and call,"Come back,my darling,for mother's heart is full to the brim with love,and if you come to snatch only one little kiss from her no one will grudge it.”

Claude Monet,The Valley of the Creuse, Sunset, in 1889. Sunset feels like winning the lottery, Cloudy days feel like a stray cat on tiptoe.😄

Vincent van Gogh, Sketch of a House, Two Lovers-1886 Is love a quiet world or a raging sea? Lovers' arms — a kind of rescued island.😄

Eugène Boudin,Étretat,The Cliff of Aval, in 1890. Between cliffs, there is no answer, Young, I was the cliff. In old age, only after a few boats drift by, They are cliffs.

Don’t write yourself Paul Celan Don’t write yourself in between worlds, rise up against multiple meanings, trust the trail of tearsand learn to live. Translated from German by John Felstiner

Woman Walking Her Dog - 1886 Breasts on the street Bossily rule like a street bully Dogs become illegible punctuation marks.

Eugène Boudin,The Stranded Boat, in 1889 Sometimes, we're not ready to embrace the rain And we end up soaked through. Other times, it's because of the rain That we retreat early. Whether we embrace or retreat, Both are gifts of time. And what else Can leave us breathless?😄

Where My Books Go W. B. Yeats All the words that I gather And all the words that I write Must spread out their wings untiring And never rest in their flight Till they come where your sad, sad heart is And sing to you in the night Beyond where the waters are moving Storm darkened or starry bright

Dark night falls into the shape of rain, An umbrella lifts into the look of a lamp. Pants dance like the wind, Hands silently scroll down the screen. The street is like an old house. Branches and wires piercing the sky hold each other, As if performing, as if taking a bow.😄

Vincent van Gogh, Window of Vincent's Studio at the Asylum - 1889 All space seems to be an occupation of the circle. The square is merely a way of standing firm. The circle is a way of speaking.

What holds open the reinforced concrete is a slim passage of a spiral staircase, like a black umbrella with a hat on.🤣

Vincent van Gogh, Still Life with Cabbage and Clogs - 1881 Cabbage and Clogs in Winter The cabbage is caught up by the clogs, And has to prepare to wear a hat for the winter. Potatoes are like traces of an escape.

The meaning of meaning — the pattern of patterns. When patterns fail to frame, Perhaps it's time for cement. This, perhaps, is architecture — The crane's industry, The haste-born, swarming light.🤣🤣

The window cannot open water unless it is a well. What is a well? What is a window? Spreading time flat — that is the well. Rising up to gaze outward — that is the window. To expand across a lifetime is a window. To hide deep through a lifetime is a well. 🤣🤣

Eugene Boudin,Fields in Fervaques,around 1874. The storytelling cows flock after flock. One cow, white specks lost in the mountains.

Spring is a rendezvous， Every kind of opening, Unspoken, yet understood.😄

The winter is so cold, Iron wires freeze into straight lines, Trees are too frozen to speak.😄

Belief as solid as a rock, Behavior as humble as a pebble, Grief can not hold the body up.

Red and Pink Poppies - 1884 One flower is spring. Two flowers are Adam and Eve.😄

Why have you seen“Solitude Late at Night in the Woods” — Robert Bly “The morning repeats the ancient grievance and the ancient light.”— W. S. Merwin, Variations on a Line by Emerson Claude Monet Weeping Willows, (c. 1918–1919)

Claude Monet, Geldersekade of Amsterdam Invierno - 1874. Painting starts in geometry and ends in solace. At this stage, Monet remained within a brown, subdued palette, yet his attainment in geometric architectural form was already discernible.

www.threads.com/@astrostrory... To dance with the galaxy is for circles to glide and avoid one another.

Eugène Boudin, Antibes, the Fortifications, in 1893. A castle, made unexpectedly strong by its defenses, waits at last for the sunset and the sea.

www.threads.com/@msipes1976/... There are countless circles on the surface of the moon; no wonder poets stand upon it.😄

Thomas W. Schaller, Where the Mountains Sweep Down to the Sea,2017. The storm of kisses is a sea. What follows feels a little hurried— because the wind has died.🤣😂

Claude Monet,The Seine at Argenteuil, in 1872. Clouds on the Bridges of the Seine Restless, unsettled — because the bridges pass too fast. The Basin of Eure harbors nothing but the past, because the ships move too slow.

Cliffs stand sheer as dusk descends; Shadows fall in patches— as if freshly wept.

Vincent van Gogh,Undergrowth (also known as Trees and Undergrowth), in 1887. Van Gogh's obsession with roots is an ode to the humble and the ordinary. In what posture should one stand at dawn to cheer for the trees?😄

Min Zhen 闵贞(1730—c. 1788).a Chinese painter,courtesy name Liaotang Jushi, was one of the Eight Eccentrics of Yangzhou.

Eugène-Louis Boudin， Criqueboeuf, the Church，created around 1883. Moss floating in the middle of the water —time does not linger. The summit, straining upward, shrunk to the size of a house. Trees, like supporting roles, stand where one must pass.

Claude Monet, Charing Cross Bridge - 1902. A lemon-scented bridge — nothing to do with the night.😄

Vincent van Gogh, Sketch of a House, Two Lovers-1886 The Presence of Love Van Gogh left love with only one arm — beneath the coat, nothing but love. Picasso sat love upon his lap. Monet let love stroll through the garden.

Eugène Boudin, Antibes, the Fortifications in 1893. Eugène has a more primal quality, while Monet carries a stronger sense of lyrical beauty. Monet has nearly moved beyond the ochre palette.

Eugène Boudin,A Squall from Northwest in 1895. Transparent wind, opaque mist—Eugène and Monet.

EugèneBoudin, Deauville, Low Tide, around 1863. The ebbing tide is one person’s deafening roar, grand, and witnessed by none.

Eugène Boudin, Le Havre, Heavy Winds off of Frascati in 1896. Claude Monet, Cliffs, Grey Weather in 1882. The wind feels so clean, so far away from the world. The clouds seem a little downcast, yet closest to the heart.

Eugène Boudin,Le Havre. Stormy Skies over the Estuary, created around 1894. The storm’s feathers are lighter than the sea, yet vaster than the yellow sands.

Claude Monet,Two Trees in a Meadow - 1886 Vincent van Gogh ,Trees in a Field on a Sunny Day - 1887. Two kinds of trees City trees exist reaching toward the sky. Country trees live growing into the earth.

Robert Pinchon,Garden in Darnétal,1912 Why does seeing more clearly mean feeling less joy? There is poetry in uncertainty. Is happiness, too, a kind of uncertainty?

Claude Monet, Isle Grande-Jatte 1878 Jonathan Sanders，Wren on a Branch How many gusts must pass before the rooftop comes clear Spring lake, branches in motion The finest branch a bird singing out loud.

Claude Monet Sailboats at sunset over the sea - 1865/1870. Dusk is a confession. Love has only one course, reborn in surging tides.

1.Don Donaghy, Untitled.1969Aug,NY. 2.Henri F,Cat, Paris. One man’s New York, a cat’s Paris. A tail that knows nothing of rain, so completely alone in itself. The city, lit and gleaming. Streets in a heavy storm, no one in sight, beneath a sky thick with clouds. Oh, be a fire hydrant or a cat?😄

Vincent van Gogh 1. Woman Feeding Chickens - 1883 2. Feeding Chickens or Sowing - 1883 A morning when a woman feeds the chickens — scattering a handful of sunlight in her hands. A man who walks as if guided by the seeds he carries, feeds the chickens — and stands dumbstruck as a wooden rooster.🤣

Claude Monet, Fontainebleau Forest - 1863/1865 When I am a life blazing with vitality Every tree becomes a flower For I am struggling for the light When I have grown into a tree Even as sunlight dances upon me I have grown so quiet — all I want is a patch of open ground

Out of Turner’s near-unseeable haze emerged Monet’s visible boat—the blue boat. Monet became himself.😄

In white, a vow is held— each bloom opening with deeper devotion, fearing spring may not be listening.😄

"Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young we loved each other and were ignorant. "by William Butler Yeats How much of the past can still water hold? If sunlight, too, is longing. then summer will always be summer.😄

1.Vincent,Path in the Woods - 1887 2.Monet,Path at Varengeville - 1882 Two Kinds of Distance Vincent van Gogh opens a path— walking into the deep woods: “In empty mountains, no one is seen,” the feeling beneath the forest within the world.

“The refusal to take sides on great moral issues is itself a decision. It is a silent acquiescence to evil. The tragedy of our time is that those who still believe in honesty lack fire and conviction, while those who believe in dishonesty are full of passionate conviction.” — Fulton J. Sheen