Friday, January 23, 2015

XIX. Faire ombre


 

Aldrin: It’s quite an eerie sight. There is a very marked three-dimensional aspect of the corona coming from behind the moon glares.
Capcom: Roger.
Aldrin: And it as looks as though—I guess what gives it that three-dimensional effect is earthshine. I can see Tycho fairly clearly—at least if I’m right-side up—I believe it’s Tycho in moonshine, I mean in earthshine. And of course I can see the sky is lit all the way around the moon…

The moon was three times nearer than it had been at the hour of sleep nine hours ago when the shades were drawn. Three times nearer, it was three times larger, and filled their circular shadow—the sun was behind and so throwing a halo several times the size of the satellite. –Norman Mailer’s MoonFire (1970, 2009)


The Near Side and the Far SideMorse’s ten frames per second through steel and optical glass,
Set aside the longest ever three-part feature; poured over the press stand's ten rounds of the Moon’s
Ardan after Nadar (1865)—Retrieving their capsized paper boat mid-park at the Bethesda fountain—Blue, and breathing
Again, after the Eagle touched down on the Tranquility basin; enfolded, in the dark matter that would be known as the Milky Way’s halo occupation distribution (HOD)
Through Valentine's and Christmas nor’easters—Even so, “Statisticians Charge Draft Lottery Was Not Random” (December 1, 1969)—All subsequent
Editions of Life; National Geographic’s December hornbill walled-up inside its nest—Put

An album on, toward longed-for long-playing revolutions of Columbia—Miles Davis at Avery Fisher auditorium (February 12, 1964), where we had taken in Samuel Barber’s Despite and Still that April—Having put
Behind questions of stars blinded by the solar corona—The Greatest Week contrived through the glass
Of Texas Instruments after that concert funding voter registration in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama (1964)—Cue burn Aquarius, the monumental Ego manning the portholes grappled with Velcro, who would not hear of a subsidy spliced to added administrators of scattershot housing, or a one-time cleanup effort—An effort that subsequently
Tears the inner suit’s nylon chiffon, of the insulating palace of numbers, to propose infant exposures before the silver nitrate is instilled—By then, hyper-text (1965) is being used on the Moon
Moments never stored beyond actuators—What is the wave they will be heeding when the Library of Congress is breathing
Connectors; dismantled to an office unit, as preadolescent crumpled paper and foil of the LM Descent Stage in our living room—The top layer's tracks bestirred after a million years, not before disintegration of handwritten letters—The conscripted hod

Movers at ease demolishing their own cornerstones—A Day in Space and Another Day, first is read for the immanence locating Magritte’s Le monde invisible (1955) in the foyer, for the subduing quality of hod
Found in the depth of another springing for a bouquet of moon flowersAquarius, who advances all the purchased rounds put
To him, leaves his technical manuals for the pre-dawn sighting of the deflated Mylar balloon off Honolulu; chrome cocktail shakers breathing
Old World to him—To us, his report sounds like the proceedings of a mining expedition; mercantile society’s gemination of subbasements of ocean vents, or a Stockholm archipelago’s hoardings of seven of seventeen rare earths—Some of which melt glass
In the rose-violet range resembling the lunar atmosphere as its readies for fifteen days of uninterrupted darkness—Having exhausted ytterbium clinching its quantum defects as the Universe's most stable atomic clock; subsequently,
Salmon milt, the runoff from hatcheries, complexes rare earths (2014)—All that is supplementary to our lives will be spun down, as the divers of the Hornet prepared for splashdown from the Moon

Landing—Entering expertise’s barren speculations, the Age of Aquarius countered by the Piscean, Auden—And the river jumps over the mountain / And the salmon sing in the street (1938) however opposed by proof of the windless Moon’s
Twelve 29.5 Earth-days, still holding the twelve names of those who left their cleats—A hod
Is a trough for the Birmingham laborers, having defined red brick universities, where Auden broods, Time imparts the lovers—Barely thirty, the poet love subsequently
Chastened; from there on, September 1, 1939, Eros and dust, from which we are forever made, inflames (1940)—When put
To Mailer’s windup of a seven-year marriage; it was in print that his wife probably heard the first of it, his feelings sealed off in the Lunar Receiving Laboratory—We breathe,
Held together, after V-J Day that August, or the B-25 piloting in pea soup out of the Empire State Building (July 28, 1945)—But then, Miró’s The Lightning Bird Blinded by Moonfire (1955) is the rooster drawn to the diffracted atmosphere, which leaves its claw marks on the lunar surface, and returns to the clouds according to the dictates of an undefinable hourglass—

From Kandinsky’s Accent vert (1935) as a settlement; the watery negatives, unlike planes of glass,
Cannot slip past each other without snags—Deployed four months later, Intrepid manors the Moon’s
Oceanus Procellarum, within view of its Surveyor, to return on time, with the Earth in eclipse of the Sun (November 21, 1969)—Infinitely larger, still, developments of the night's forced surrender here below to tidal breaths
Morning’s upright entry was at times polished on a wheel of Carborundum attempting to sinter outer conditions that fired Constellations (1944-1959) of exile—Compared to the anchoring and peripatetic feet of a person, which bring us to before the Hod
Of a spread table, a shared overlook, if to distract a person lost in her own heart—Getting out of the shower, we pause to the study of the 3-by-6-inch white glazed Subway tiles and subsequently
Repeated wafers of the Moon Museum hidden under the foil bases of Apollo XII—Samuel Barber visited a Texas fighter wing for Symphony No. 2 (1942); from what he thought of the roll of the ailerons, put

In an electronic tone generator—Aquarius, having committed the sacrilege of reading Song of Songs for a bulldozered two-tone apricot and cream sedan, put
Off the last chapter until the day Apollo XIII shambled into orbit; its module never to reach the maria, and another denouement in a tipped glass—
A Burial at Sea’s Humboldt squid nevertheless backlighting sunken space components; their tank lines refuge for Amphitrite worms, the nymph forms of horses—Subsequently,
String arrangements congregate in one flesh which might be nerves—November 25, 1963, the National Symphony Orchestra performed Barber’s Adagio for Strings (1938) at the first lady’s request—Moons,
Working through two panes of glass, are three reverses from the painter to the onlooker’s eyes, which conceal their oceans beneath albedo, or otherwise risk being drained—Breathing
In maximum insolation during its passage, Mount Kisco’s Capricorn is the purchase of Barber and Manotti, two water signs—Barber turned to Neruda for the interplanetary assembly of condensations, a basket for carrying earth—Hod,

Splendor of light beyond the Tyrol, drawing Rattenberg from extended shadows with aid of the simulated pericynthion of heliostats put to dappling the pendula of leaves; even on the shoulders of hod
Carriers strained by impinged nerves of their crowns—While the Moon itself contains for us subsequent
Isinglasses beyond these; cleaved by the Sun, from Cien Sonetos (1960) happiness is a transparent tower smiling before us in our frames


8 comments:

Σφιγξ said...

http://www.bostonherald.com/news_opinion/local_coverage/2015/02/valentine_s_day_nor_easter_could_bring_foot_of_snow_to_bay_state

Σφιγξ said...

After my mid-morning exam, I made a periodic detour to the archeological site of a used bookstore in a condemned building dealing in rough first editions and lots of funeral libraries. As I walked in, Sam Fink's Exodus was waiting, but I turned down this fortuitous treasure judging the pastel watercolors not to my liking. Who writes an Exodus story in baby's breath? I might so back for it.

I came home with, after searching in a cave of paperbacks mixing with the grout, a first edition of Norman Mailer's Of a Fire on the Moon (1970), not rare, but with the complete Life magazine journalism and Magritte* cover and a translation of José Ortega y Gasset, On Love (1958), with curious chapters interrogating Stendhal, Salome, Teresa, and a landscape with a deer in the background. I want to metatextualize this, with Kristeva's The Severed Head...both are rigorous with ekphrases. Kristeva's dare is to be more devout than anyone who claims to be believer.

https://books.google.com/books?id=g_p9CqERi-IC&lpg=PA72&dq=On%20Love%20Ortega%20y%20Gasset&pg=PA72#v=onepage&q=On%20Love%20Ortega%20y%20Gasset&f=false

https://books.google.com/books?id=DpOqsEOHs1wC&lpg=PP1&dq=The%20Severed%20Head&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q=The%20Severed%20Head&f=false

http://www.brooklynrail.org/2012/02/express/kristevas-top-down-critique

Σφιγξ said...

I like the ending here. I will incorporate it into the next Card.

Σφιγξ said...

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2018/09/helmeted-hornbill-bird-ivory-illegal-wildlife-trade/

Σφιγξ said...

https://books.google.com/books?id=pUmH6d0xWWUC&lpg=PA129&dq=ground%20hornbill%20nest-sealing&pg=PA129#v=onepage&q=ground%20hornbill%20nest-sealing&f=false

Σφιγξ said...

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NN5HvE-L-XlQzYr5xWs58EAQwyUsMx-w/view?usp=drivesdk

Peace, April 29, 1945 VE Day

Σφιγξ said...

https://www.getyourfaceinabook.com/book/9781599620350

Σφιγξ said...

The Meilland Peace rose is entwined in a mulberry tree heavy with immature fruit. It is so high that I cannot photograph it.

The Exodus book, and, I see, Jill Hammer's Omer Calendar of Biblical Women Hardcover – August 20, 2024.