https://youtu.be/808nTiXLam8 I’m still in this place. Sometimes it seems I never leave. * Gallery, 2014 Imagine, if you will a gallery piece installed, a row of plants at progressing stages of growth, lined up in pots and flash-frozen in time, breathing cold puffs, crystalline almost synthetic. Imagine also the moment the exhibit starts to disintegrate, freeing gouged…Read more Grey
I can’t find my incense. I don’t want to write. I desperately want nothing more than to write. For ever. So then, perhaps I’m just a stymied masochist at heart(less), doomed to miserable inaction for the rest of my days. I do not dedicate myself as I should, as I need. . . There’s a…Read more The Ever-Processing Machine
0% c. Mary Kathryn Gough Black & White film 100 or 400, Jan 2005 Monastics used to climb up into these crags and crevices to pray and meditate. There were then monasteries built near the top of some, with wrist-thick rope nets let down on pulleys for visitors. Since then, steps have been carved into…Read more Meteora (c)
self portrait. Instagram c. Mary Kathryn Gough
Hello all 🙂 Thank you all so much for your support. Idiolalia is available straight from the printer now at 3 GBP or 5 USD each (or a cheaper PDF ebook copy). If you order from Lulu through the link provided here it should be sent straight to your house, super-easy. The price may change…Read more Idiolalia Poetry Collection Now Available!
Solstice There is little snow on the ground when you begin your morning walk on this the shortest day of the year. This is the season of gathering cold, the fading memory of spring. Light flows slowly through the woods, a light you could harvest like grain or scoop into your astonished mouth the way…Read more From For the Light
... watching Fellowship of the Ring -- thinking that we desperately need to keep alive certain fictions in our lives. The ones which invigorate our hearts to defy what is for the sake of what can be. . . Mythic culture is anti-realist, and yet it is the most true to Realism's heart (don't tell…Read more an abandoned subversion
Every day the body works in the fields of the world mending a stone wall or swinging a sickle through the tall grass— the grass of civics, the grass of money— and every night the body curls around itself and listens for the soft bells of sleep. But the heart is restless and rises from…Read more The Night House. . .
this is one of my favorite poems about love. there are more, but this one always comes to mind, and it makes me happy. last thursday was our wedding anniversary, and it has been a beautiful and cherishing one, so i wanted to dedicate this post to tim. 🙂 all my heart & love to…Read more cummings on love
c. Mary Kathryn Gough, 2003, Photoshop. Draft 1 c. Mary Kathryn Gough, 2003, Photoshop. Draft 2
don't feel like turning myself on my head just to look at the world with new eyes. to see it all through glass or crystal, doesn't matter. burning lava or glowing rubies set in silver -- my heart is blank and empty because everything is(n't) good just the way it is(n't) and that's the way…Read more Matter.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough, 1999.
even the lilies of the field have growth pains-- bursts of desire: the touch of sunlight the nearness of neighbor the feel of whisping grasses. their bells, like ears, enjoy a perpetual tide of soft change: a)n almost im(perceptible music. remember sped-up science videos of growth, of opening flowers? remember how sometimes…Read more To Still the Striving