Fallen leaves like festive marigold petals
An unlikely spring marshals its illusions.
What should we do now? Ki kori? That ‘ki kori,’ I have found, is a different thing to the mythical East and the mythical West. To one it is predicament, to the other it is call to action. Further, consider the masculine, capable, “Ki kora jaye?” in contrast to the feminine consternation of “Ki kori.”
Arthur Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama is a magic, magic book, like cotyledons sleeping.
It opens to thought and stimuli like a plant to the triggers of life. A man, writing on careers, quoted Pink Floyd, “set the controls for the heart of the sun.” As the world Clarke christened Rama did, before humans existed, after they will, heading with calm precision for the heart of the sun where it will sip from the fire and, in a curving arc of change, head out to unimaginable futures, to tempt other worlds with the possibility of salvation and examples of change. In a perfect parabola lay the meaning of ‘avatar’: that
self-sustaining thing, partially recognizable by the observer’s world, potent enough to be threatening, which flashed through the observing heavens on its own pre-determined course, bringing into fruition a perfection of life and form out of its own belly—a perfect dream of order unachievable, untouchable. Its
coming to life again is reincarnation, its perfection the definition of avatar.
Those people are attuned to their necessity of putting the daily bread on the table, she said. If you take away that necessity and give them money they won’t know what to do. I agreed.
So. Work is tied to necessity, acquiring dimension by relief against the canvas of supply and demand. The Left and Right begin to make sense and take flight.
And the poet is beseeching, wants to put both hands into the moist earth for he has heard that that will make his writing smell like bread.