Archive for the ‘art’ Category

what is here
in front of me
clean and dirty laundry


throwing treasures to the floor
recorded music resonates

my sadness

if i think about detachment

don’t own the un-mated sock
or the dishes
in the sink –
if i don’t own the cats
clawing at moths

and ripping the screen

do i own my sadness

what is there
behind me

distinctly discernible
patterns of pain
expectations, explanations, reasons and rational
big because-es

do i own my past
my sad specters

what is here
in front of me

cloudy morning
cats moving inside
breeze outside
hear the summer
soak in the green
fractal and chaotic patterns

of living leaves

do i own my future
my sadness sits

i watch it
i will not will it

it moves
on its own time
no different than
the cats
the leaves
the breeze

the dishes

the clean and dirty laundry

the solitary sock

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feeling my role like a method actress
looking for the cues
to find my entrance
knuckles knock
on too many locked doors

twenty-seven small bones
sore in their sockets

No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
like the Fifth begins with a knocking
it’s not closed in a closet
not – not – not  — there
not – not – not  — there
not in these twenty-seven
flanges – knuckles and fingers
not held

but in the twenty-six or twenty-eight
(depending on how you count…)
bones of my feet
accepting and supporting
my souls on the earth

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The longer I listen
The more I hear


Filling up the



Foreground middle and


Painting a picture

seen sound
Strokes of solos’ song
Each individual’s cry
part of a whole

Each to each
class and category
Variety, kind and type all

Call out to the

Noon summer now

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not thinking
on the edge of automatic
no noetic wisdom
tired from days decisions
a simple step slipped
into a kick

meeting metal leg of
pressed plywood Eames Chair
prize of my parents early marriage
recently departed mother
sixty years ago
her first paycheck as a teacher
spent with spirit on modern art

with my new smart phone
just purchased
the cause of my distraction
i take a picture of
my purple broken toe
blue streaked tendons
and send it
wavering  its way on a world wide web
and instantly
assemble the image
in an inbox

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I am very excited that the author of A Twisted Pair has quoted me in the post – Be here now – particularly since I hadn’t remembered writing the comment he quoted and it sounded pretty good – I had one of those, gee, did I write that moments?

But as an artist who has been working almost thirty years for a very limited audience I have been delighted to find others out here in a creative and nourishing nexus.

I am reminded of a professor I had in graduate school in the early 1990s – Teachers’ College, Columbia University.  I was improbably working on (but destined not to finish, thankfully) a Phd in math education. He had returned to teaching after working as an experimental mathematician for Bell Labs and he had done a lot of work on multidimensional geometry. He talked a lot about modeling geometric solids that had more than three connections in space from their vertices – any number, n dimensional! It ended up having a big impact on how phone traffic is routed.

This was all before the internet was much – but I suppose it was a vision as to how it works now – a connection, to a connection, to a connection – almost a living network of nerve cells.

And so we blog. But not to boost our ego, but to lose it in our work, in the game, as we are reminded by A Twisted Pair’s post – out here in the vastness of the internet….

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Saturday nearly solstice morning
only highlights and black shadows
no mid-tones
a fine day
to walk with myself

in recollection and examination of experience
in my mind’s eye
the earth
cycles round the sun
to reach this climax
of light

now ths
lucent lambent moment
i reordered my cosmos
rotated my axis
expanded the day

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February 19 2008

I have been meaning to write this post for a while, but I have felt like I simply did not have the time. But this is the amazing thing about flying – it changes our perception of time. Of course we are all aware of Jet Lag when we fly across the continent and wind up on the East Coast where it is so much later – but I’m talking about something different – the compression and expansion of time and space. (more…)

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