Robert Irwin: A Conditional Art A Book by Matthew Simms yalebooks.yale.edu Only a mind opened to the quality of thingsThe most incidental detailIn a state of reverberationSort of underway by thenUntitled (Dot Painting)+41 More Seeing Is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One SeesPhenomenal: California Light, Space, Surface
The Sheaves A Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson www.poetrynook.com Where long the shadows of the wind had rolled, Green wheat was yielding to the change assigned; And as by some vast magic undivined The world was turning slowly into gold. Like nothing that was ever bought or sold It waited there, the body and the mind; And with a mighty meaning of a kind That tells the more the more it is not told. So in a land where all days are not fair, Fair days went on till on another day A thousand golden sheaves were lying there, Shining and still, but not for long to stay— As if a thousand girls with golden hair Might rise from where they slept and go away. farmingseasonschangemelancholy