Friday, May 28, 2010

The Sun on So Many Flowers

To glorify thought, or to condemn it, is to think thought worthy of thought. Even the thought of the absence of thought between thoughts is a thought thought worthy of thought. I think I will take a walk. I think I will build a bridge to the stars. I think I will think about thinking, thinking thinking is the best place to start. Thinking thought, I will thoughtlessly think some more. I will think thought is a symphony. I will think thinking is a war. I will think thoughts unworthy of thought, thoughts thought countless times before. And if a new thought arrives, will I know it? The thought of such a thought is appealing. Like the sun on so many flowers, thinking this is the one, no this is, no this is, until it is all of them, or none.

“The Sun on So Many Flowers” is my newest Notebook entry. Old notes are archived here. The piece is also included in Poems, Slightly Used.

In the Forum: heir today, gone tomorrow.


Woman in a Window said...

I open like a flower to the sun
and gobble your light. Truly. A staircase comes to mind for some reason. Are we all climbing together?

Robert and I
indebted to the prompts you grant us.

This is so many things to me. This. No this. Now this. It is how we live.


ALeks said...

I like this climbing stairs after which we run down the stairs and then up again,load in our shoo!!

William Michaelian said...

Erin, I feel the same way about you and Robert. Hungry sun, hungry flowers, mutual need.

Aleksandra, may we run up and down these stairs together for a long time to come!

Stickup Artist said...

Hi William,

I may have it wrong (if there is such a thing) and there are probably as many interpretations of a piece of art as there are people looking at it, but I'll leave what I am taking away from the artwork I see here. That we are not totally solid like we perceive ourselves to be, and that we are temporary spirits inhabiting this realm. Everything in motion, pure energy or spirit. Seems you got me thinking! :-)

William Michaelian said...

Hello, Stickup Artist, and welcome. It seems I did. But of course you were already thinking when you arrived....

I love what you’re taking away. In doing so, you’re revealing more of what’s here.

Joseph Hutchison said...

And the thought-void behind the thoughts that make the thoughts thinkable...

William Michaelian said...

Joe, good thought. Either you’re with me, or way ahead of me, or in the same sorry condition. Since what you say makes sense, I suspect it’s the latter.

Joseph Hutchison said...

Same condition, doubtless. An old one:

What have you, my good friends, deserv'd at the hands of 
Fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?

 Prison, my lord?

Denmark's a prison.

Then is the world one.

 A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards, and 
dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst.

 We think not so, my lord.

 Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or 
bad, but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.

William Michaelian said...

Brilliant! And I love “confines, wards, and dungeons.” I need to start working that into conversation.

Oops! — wrong stack.... I know Hamlet is around here somewhere....

Vatche said...

Awesome prose, William. When I read it aloud, it felt almost like a tongue-twister. (Or a mind twister?)

I especially love the line, "I think I will build a bridge to the stars." That line really hit me somehow.

Write on, William!

Old 333 said...

That was pretty cool, William. I agree with Vatche: a mind-twister. It made me think of the phrase-let: "Relentlessly, he thought" [whatever it was he was thinking]. Your words about thought and flowers also made me think of Fred Hoyle's view of time as presented in the (forgotten superbook) October The First Is Too Late: not as a strip, loop, or [in my case] bizarre spindle-like thing, but as a series of perspectives/time-paths, each illuminated at unknowable intervals by the outside 'light' of an unknown externality, as though God were a man shining a single flashlight into an endless series of dusty pigeonholes in which all History resided.

Looking for what, though?



William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Vatche! Anyway, there’s no cure for this disease — or if there is, I’m not interested in finding it. By the way, I’ve read this aloud dozens of times myself....

Just looking, Peter, just looking.... And beautifully put, I must say.

RUDHI - Chance said...

That's a curling circle-thinking makes me lightly dizzy...

William Michaelian said...

Be careful, Rudhi — it’s dangerous to jump off of the thought merry-go-round....