Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

August 01, 2007

The Dalles

There is a fascination to landscapes
that contain shadow, perhaps always
contain shadow, at all times of day,
so that I wonder if they have always
contained shadow: their folded privations,
chill fall gullies of stone, secret springs
and cold remoteness belong to them,
but since when? What graphic harm
came upon the land to turn the stone
shy, to fold the mountain mute, at certain
angles, more shadow than rock? And in it,
the memory of water carving rock,
of rock-carving water, the insistence,
the impossible made possible by its sheer
mass, force, and time. The process took
forever, and this dropped, incidental
ribbon of stone will last even longer.

Posted by Delire at August 1, 2007 04:23 PM
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