I published this tile back in December of 2014 (Exploring Depth with Hollibaugh). This morning in twilight sleep, I remembered this image and thought immediately of two poems, Charles Simic's "Stone" and Mary Oliver's "At Blackwater Pond." Since these Wednesday posts have evolved into enjoyable opportunities to associate creative works in different media with my own drawings, I was happy to stumble on these associations upon waking. Enjoy.
by Charles Simic
Go inside a stoneThat would be my way.Let somebody else become a doveOr gnash with a tiger's tooth.I am happy to be a stoneFrom the outside the stone is a riddle:No one knows how to answer it.Yet within, it must be cool and quietEven though a cow steps on it full weight,Even though a child throws it in the river;The stone sinks, slow, unperturbedTo the river bottomWhere the fishes come to knock on itAnd listen.I have seen sparks fly outWhen two stones are rubbed,So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;Perhaps there is a moon shiningFrom somewhere, as though behind a hill -Just enough light to make outThe strange writings, the star-chartsOn the inner walls.
Here is one more poem that comes to mind with the image of a stone:
"At Blackwater Pond"
by Mary Oliver
At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?