Corn Flower Blue

By Aaron Pinnix

 

Note from the Poet:

Momentum is sort of a strange idea. It’s a continuation of what’s going on, but there’s no pointing towards the beginning. Momentum as a motion without overt origination. I was thinking about this on a greyhound bus, the perfect setting for such considerations. Among my questions was the idea of momentum in one’s own autobiography, the narrations we bracket according to packing up and moving to new places, or the idea of new days marked by new sunrises, but each break is an unnecessary or perhaps artificial or arbitrary one, as anyone who has stayed up all night can attest to. The days have a fluidity, a life moves with the same continuity as those towns which pass outside the bus window. Each town has its own townline, an often invisible demarcation, but each also looks similar. Where was the original town, the original day? Not that we have to abolish Boundary but perhaps we always already exist within momentum.

        Corn Flower Blue was written and drawn on that bus (the mundaneness of a long bus ride!). I took some pictures, made some decisions, wrote this up, and then sent it off to Sarah & Rose. And though today is not July 8th, there remains a transposition back to then, a momentum which remains like a thin copper wire through the bus ride and back to other occasions, like visiting Roanoke (home of the largest manmade star!), and even to Easters at my great-grandmother’s. Where are these relations? Or alternatively, why their boundaries?

 

Aaron Pinnix