THE LITTLE CLAVIER—A page from my new book BUY online! [ click photo for next . . . ]
On the road in the Pacific Northwest . . .
complex to simple...
Rotting, decay, compost, dirt;
Fire, smoke, coal, ash;
Critique, doubt, OMG—
my theory is dead.
Consider this: Does an empty battery weigh less than a battery fully
charged? Or is there a difference in weight between the living human
body, and the body’s weight at death? Or consider that if we break
apart a triangle of sticks, or smash a computer, and then weigh the
resulting pile of parts, before seems to equal after in each case. But
what is lost then, if ‘it’ is evidently weightless? A pattern? A working
together, or harmony of parts?
A child might ask, “Where does the triangle go?” Does it at the mo-
ment of break-up just cease to exist, like after switching off the lights,
colors cease to exist in a darkened room? Or is it more like a handful
of brightly colored sand thrown at random on the skin of a large bass
drum turned on its side, brought into resonant movement by a singing
voice, or trumpet, or trombone? After all, instantly, there is here pat-
tern. Instantly, new figures of extraordinary complexity emerge with
each new change of pitch. (If you actually see this first-hand, you’ll
never forget it.) But once the sound stops, the structure quickly loses
its integrity. You can weigh the sand, before and after, but again it will
show no difference. So again, to our current way of seeing and mea-
suring and thinking, before equals after. That is, except for a loss of
resonance. A loss of resonance? A mere weightless nothing? Or just
perhaps, very much closer to, everything.
A MEDITATION ON BATTERIES—from a quartet
All Photographs & texts by Cliff Crego © 1998-2016 picture-poems.com