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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2021-02-12 11:25:10 -08:00
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writing/seasons/index.html
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@ -20,7 +20,8 @@
<p>When I studied music, back in university, back as I was starting to get into software engineering, I found the dichotomy surrounding repeatability between these two subjects self-evident. There is a special curse for software bugs that are not easily repeated: Heisenbugs<sup id="fnref:heisenbugs"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:heisenbugs">1</a></sup>. On the other hand, though, there <em>is</em> no way to ever perform the same song twice, even for the same singers, the same instrumentalists, the same conductors. Even with the same audience, that time any time must perforce pass in so time-bound an art means that those who hear the song </p>
<p>A year spirals up.</p>
<p>A day, a week, a month, they all spiral, for any one Sunday is like the previous and the next shall be much the same, but the you who experiences the differing Sundays is different. It is a spiral, proceeding steadfastly onward. A day is a spiral, with each morning much the same as the one before and the one after. A month, following the cycle of the moon</p>
<p>But a year, in particular, spirals up.</p>
<p>But a year, in particular, spirals up. It carries embedded within it a certain combination of pattern, count, and duration that delineates our lives better than any other cyclical unit of time. Yes, a day is divided into night and day, and those liminal dusks and dawns, but there are <em>so many of them</em>. There are so many days in a life, and there are so many in a year that to see the spiral within them does not come as easily.</p>
<p>Our years are delineated by the seasons, though, and the count of them is so few, and the duration long enough that we can run up against that first scent of snow late in the autumn and immediately be kicked down one level of the spiral in our memories. What were we doing the last time we smelled that non-scent? What about the time before?</p>
<h2 id="spring">Spring</h2>
<div class="verse">The seasonal storms have poured upon the grassy flat,
The leafless stalks abound like thirsty mouths.
@ -37,6 +38,10 @@ His daughter nudges him, to no effect.
She walks away rememb&rsquo;ring days they stalked the plains,
Within her womb there grows a golden bloom.</div>
<p>(Dwale, pg. 26)</p>
<h3 id="the-poem">The poem</h3>
<h3 id="analysis-and-parallels">Analysis and parallels</h3>
<h3 id="the-song">The song</h3>
<h3 id="in-life">In life</h3>
<h2 id="summer">Summer</h2>
<div class="verse">Summer, season of hot insomnia,
That much never seems to change at all.
@ -53,6 +58,10 @@ No advent waits for the restive dreamer.
I bandage my tattered, bitten left hand
And shed the smoke rings on my cloven finger.</div>
<p>(Dwale, pg. 8)</p>
<h3 id="the-poem_1">The poem</h3>
<h3 id="analysis-and-parallels_1">Analysis and parallels</h3>
<h3 id="the-song_1">The song</h3>
<h3 id="in-life_1">In life</h3>
<h2 id="autumn">Autumn</h2>
<p><em>Face down in the leaves</em></p>
<div class="verse">We crawl through moist humus like millipedes,
@ -75,6 +84,10 @@ I know your breath, your jasmine-scented air.
Alive, a god to mites and mud-daubers.
The harvestmen scuttle and bob onwards.</div>
<p>(Dwale, pg. 9)</p>
<h3 id="the-poem_2">The poem</h3>
<h3 id="analysis-and-parallels_2">Analysis and parallels</h3>
<h3 id="the-song_2">The song</h3>
<h3 id="in-life_2">In life</h3>
<h2 id="winter">Winter</h2>
<p><em>Dirt Garden</em></p>
<div class="verse">My garden of foxtails and milk-thistle,
@ -92,6 +105,10 @@ Just they and I, with no need of reproof,
And thank the thorns for making a hale fence,
The compost for being my winter blanket.</div>
<p>(Dwale, pg. 5)</p>
<h3 id="the-poem_3">The poem</h3>
<h3 id="analysis-and-parallels_3">Analysis and parallels</h3>
<h3 id="the-song_3">The song</h3>
<h3 id="in-life_3">In life</h3>
<h2 id="citations">Citations</h2>
<div class="codehilite"><pre><span></span><code><span class="nv">@book</span><span class="err">{</span><span class="n">dwale</span><span class="p">,</span><span class="w"></span>
<span class="w"> </span><span class="n">title</span><span class="w"> </span><span class="o">=</span><span class="w"> </span><span class="ss">&quot;Face Down in the Leaves&quot;</span><span class="p">,</span><span class="w"></span>