field & field 2 field notes ellie epp

- 1



the beauty of the moment when it was over            no sound            no image            full silence going on                  they cdn't know it was over, it had been over so many times           


i'm alone now                          how is it                                  it's true


images of field & field or field & pasture meeting          -          imagination likes what refers to itself          -          local writing & pictures          -          glamours          -          the screen


thought it would be early morning,  it was sooner,  tree in the solar,  sleep thinking,   under,


white neon cube          10-by                  touches of some faint color moving in the white


a chocolate cake,              another flatter one                         a dog, red, blue, brown & white with lines of pattern                  the old woman was once   -   i seem to be grasping a relation   -   on the edge of a lake           the nanny or governess of                  

                 i say she's very old & this is across amnesis


anyone listening to language:   eyes    eyebrows    forehead          micromovements            at the rhythm of the speaker             without a lag


this morning        sunday        early            waking from a small voice   my own   stating opposites to what i'm used to thinking


working pleasure but then,    together with,    & now more,         pain,          quarrel


in the blue journal remembering,  a few days remarkably recovering & then summing                                  the liquefied thinking from then

                                                                                                oh where shd i be


it is not possible to pass from one to the other without a break.    one starts out but at some point there is a breakdown.


       small mixed message,   my envelope,   anger,   toy,   bitter,   handful of peapods,   love,    joke      (did i miss the writing in them,


he isn't following, knows this is a dead end & i'll have to backtrack.            have to fold back the mirrors across the stairs, and at the top, am looking at a baby asleep in a crib in a dark hall.                   retreat.

any phrase contains the coordinates of its place          -          that's not quite          -


she said,   that writing is the cube, that fissures & still stands together


the first summer, the question is,         is there still an outside.         the slides show,     a staring school alone in the land.          a staring truck to the eyes in grass.            a view from further back than the door.              a view from behind a shadow flying.          veined sky.          doubled flame rearing to look.             a photographer veiled.          a bone & its shadow in ashed ground & water.


thank you                   window zooming up              hey               but not                 -          it's        her                  beautiful          head


came home.     cocoa on the stove, boiled over (for you my old one) while i stood under the porch light looking               it is & it isn't            what do i know today          the blinding fine white yellow headlights rising on the slick              that the first version is true & wrong,            the revised is false, anxious, opportunistic, narrow               & there can be a version come from them both


is part of          -          the one becomes two, within one         /         which is one within one       

                        the mirror reflection is again placenta



i feel a homecoming light


it is selfconscious freedom, which is at one with itself, and has not set aside the opposition it involves            the life of the mind is not one that shuns death & keeps clear of destruction;        it endures death & in death maintains its being.        it only wins to its truth when it finds itself utterly torn asunder

            after birth.               seeing the placenta                    the surprise of the gnarled, heavily veined big meaty               red & blue bulging

            hold up the placenta so the child can see


the woman in the bath says something,    it's not very  ------,      there isn't  ------ in it                     -           what?         -          ------         -         eternity!        -          i don't agree,                   to want a bath & to go out into the corridor & put your hand on a door & the knob turns & you go in & have a bath, it's very  ------


how as it goes into a new part it has also immediately a circumstance / knowledge which is its own

                        the dimension it doesn't have is knowledge of its whole sequence


is got into by slow intense observation            'causes a shift'


navigation with ref to start and destination by feeling where one is in it


first part     bleached green      a ghost is visiting the homestead


the kindled image feels the smallest flare


a liminal beating           wheatfield


little creeping color change


over the east place grassland       a flotilla of them sailing in that even way


acute place      the acute farmland        the sense of acute farmland


it's already live & already bright        picks up tiny lines of vibration          it registers exquisitely the smallest breathing shift of your thigh as fluctuation of brightness


it begins with a pulling into here


strengthening a way of speaking & sensing


an expanded region of undertone


i tried to observe what passed in my own mind when i did the work of a worm


if we were parting for life it would be like this,          smile,          but blind,     and already gone,             wd it


you're going thru war to your family

we know there'll be no turning around


laying cheek on bathtub edge             i don't want there to be anyone else in me     i want to be alone in this work


not careful,    familiar,    bang in,     s m i l e ,       that false smile going fast & deep, pleasantness spreads behind it,   (sorry - )           (and:  she i'm not true enough to be with, wdnt've - )

                                                                                    but  was that him

it puts me into thin stirred time to think so


the strength & color of the light & air

mountain sides    white breath     stands among



head pressures                      the brightening                        i wrote on.


sailing  sailing                                      sayling away

sail on thru the sad                 it has gone on


nasturtiums                 mor of the field


                        born at noon, laid on the ground

            burned in the campo dei fiori


wanting differently

wanted you to know                           wanted to know


frenzy's already here      i'm tearing thru the leaves

                        ophruoeis!                           yelling                              no more

husband i want                       music                                       now



knight's knife               knight's gown


a book in the foldover at the belly, it's a

journal i hid there long before


something else            -           a moment of the other            -           next to a moment of this one

            when he was stubbornly for a long time standing in the water towing the lily on its long stem


without shame,        with shame,        in the model,        in the one.



expresses a time.      there can't be corrections