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Ice sound
[2007-08-01]
A long whine,
almost a horse's whinny
comes from the ice
and at times strangely like a bird call.
Jack Ward, Mawson, January 1955
words: Jack Ward
Mawson diary
27 January 1955
animation: L.R.
Sydney 2007
Iceberg
When frozen
Their shape is sharp
Jagged edges slicing.
Giant icebergs growing
In coldness of oceanic minds
Only tips emerge, the purity submerged
hollow jagged cathedrals of alabaster white
an ethereal blue entices lustre of buoyant mountains
Floating further from home, murmurs and temperature
hairline cracks, a spectre of majestic purity
fracturing and splintering, becoming
contextual representations.
Melting, deliquesce
Lost in lilac
Raw untamed
Thoughts contained
Within shapes, products
of the imagination, restricted
by the confines of language, words.
The true purity of unsubjected thought hidden.
Behind carefully deranged symbols and punctuation
Complete communication of pure thought is impossible.
The global warming of thoughts into language. Smoothing
Edges and creases into a homogenous disembodied
thought, now easily manipulated within the
confines of language. Single streams
of once pure thoughts, now
linear, unrecognisable.
A. A. Davies
Sydney, 2007
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