Jupiter Inlet 1968
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So many .... * "All night I hear so many echoes in the forest I’m tempted to look back, to save myself in hindsight, where all I see is the absence of me. Where all I hear is your voice…"
— Chard deNiord, from “This Ecstasy” [photo: Lisa Jefferson]View from their lot upriver from ours where we grew up * A nice Loxahatchee view. Most of the homes that were there when we were growing up are now gone. Bulldozed into nothingness to make way for the new more upscale design. I suppose that there is no use opposing change or progress [so called] because it'll come. But if you're used to or have memory of a more pristine beauty, you'll probably be called further into some new wilderness because it is the wild untamed aspect of the river that was really appealing. It could get so quiet there - the stars at night, the sometime phosphorescent water. Hardly any boats, hardly any crowding of anything except maybe mullet at the water's edge. It's hard to appreciate a place like that as a child except for intermittently. it's simply "home" and assumed like mother and father that it'll always be there and will always remain the same. But of course it isn't that same for one tiny moment much less years of time. We are compelled in ingest our experiences of people and places. We will probably not pass this way again. * “You are the many-petalled melting point of repeating decimals …” — Andrew Joron, from ‘Spine to Spin, Spoke to Speak,’ in Trance Archive: New & Selected Poems (City Lights Books, 2010) * “Did I have you There, that one time, And do I have you lost now? More steady, like a jar Marveling at its own emptiness, yet you shall taste it, A sea breeze one day glimpsed, Taken away, but you never knew you had it And so notice nothing strange, its absence Is perfect, and the room suddenly is lighter.” — John Ashbery, from “Disguised Zenith,” in April Galleons (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999)
[from Quidnunc my blog of remembrance]
