Today's art is from the American photographer, Emmet Gowin (b. 1941), who is known for photos, often with potent symbolism, of his wife, Edith, also for aerial photography of transformed landscapes. The above is of his wife's niece, Nancy. Here's a sample of his pictures at MoMA. And here is my poem. the origin of bliss what is sure is the urge toward bliss the child knows even if you or I don’t as she is closer not there not aware (who is aware) but closer so she knows a little better the lingering whispers of her advent whispers that whisper what to wear where and how to set her feet on the ground on what grass under what sun how and when to let her head tilt to the sky her gaze to yield and she knows in her body she is not alone that there is help somehow (she does not know how) from an early gift perhaps the earliest far far away and yet closer— the urge to grasp and to hold on to what in her body in her world can tell her who she is . . . what shapes what strands what minor major grooves what impossible braided conception of a bird fated and waiting in the winged stillness to be grasped then held— one cradled in each hand
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Could I love this blissful poem any more? I think not🙏
Lovely