The Interview Written July 16 20 through August 15 20 Finished typing on August 27 20 Begin: These interviews play on the etymological meaning of the word ‘interview’. The word interview finds origin in French, stems from the roots ‘voir’ - to see and ‘vue’ - a view. The voir of the reader, as has been every person, even the vue here, is
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So far Bjorn Bengtsson has created 12 blog entries.
October 22 Rooster crows into red-blue fiery mountains, touched by kiss of sunrise, air is sweet, melodic and winded cool. Truer tones from the birdsong, i am the bird’s son, no show, all is play in nature’s way; Pinyon Pines CA is where i learn I am; pitches of clouds curl from deep blues to pinks to yellow sulfur whites. Trees, berry bushes, pinyon pines,
October 21 2020 The moon is growing, larger are the early orange glow evenings the eye over the sea of star shines, smiling crescent before slipping behind land. Birdsongs, they are what keeps me aware of this breath. God is salvation time and apart time and time again and into eternity’s ever. Since first hour of the world, time got to tick tocking, space unfurling,
Earth /2 I Wind howled in my head, in from the frigid outside windows. At certain tones and pitched, the voice of the wind demanded a door here or there mysteriously shut or open, all dependent upon the present state of affairs concerning one’s attitude toward life and passages therein. One is always apt for universal trope in speaking in
Namer’s Grace The first winds of human word Blew petals like skin - Thousand years direction To settle acolyte soft - Sleepless, the blossom lay On a namer’s Grace. They came, they came - The propagation Maybe once a thousand years To pray, catch that first wind In their own skin, In their own hands - soft, Soft sleepless petals To
Lover Eye I Every love’s written herself - she’d say, I saw you pull back into your own world and all I wanted was to be in that world with you. With her collapsed the world, wrought hand to pen and brought night apart sunset. And on your worst night, the best work. Your thoughts had endless reach - loved touched
Flora Of flora I learn Life is all bloom and is wilt And always is life Pink and White My pink and white skies Are not my skies, but God’s – Open eye in my own. Candle – when Consumed to love. Candle waxed with love – burns in Love, burns into love.
Peach Rose Dressed in blood white, white gold. Litany, your lip, pursed with Not that, this. This! Petal skip, arch over brow, Vased with beauteous this. Not earth, not sisters, not sweet soil, not sun. A vase, a stranger, a sink’s water, a bulb. This you had been given, not that natural. Still this beauteous gift, your swift breath Ever this you give
Oct 17 2020 Streets lined with no bodies but still the sights of these street politic signs protest at my appreciation of nature. In my head cluttered i am for poor manipulation in street picket white america where everybody wants a tesla, hear them say no one can stop me now. Each body:big politic, small in portion to the endless. A bucket or body
Prayer Essay I feel open, through and into the open heart of my door into life flows rivers of resplendent color, songs of illumination, words move with power, breathing is praise, all is worship for God of love. I feel loved, the days are important, a dream is a nearer horizon, the eyelid is the hinge of the world. The world i live