The World Contracted to a Recognizable Image
at the small end of an illness/there was a picture/probably Japanese/which filled my eye
an idiotic picture/except it was all I recognized/the wall lived for me in that picture/I clung to it as a fly.
William Carlos Williams
I don’t know if wanna explain just now, but let’s just say I had to destroy something. The emotions were all there. This picture hung above my mantle, and in the end it had to go. It was cold last night, but I pulled it down from the wall. and took it out into the frigid air, and beat it against the fence several times, until the picture and frame were beyond repair.
And if you look at the picture, it seems right. It’s a photograph about absence, in a metaphysical sense.
Reality can be hard.