i. space symbolizes the world the face of everyday its edges blur and all the rooms turn silver ii. space is made of bodies climbing into one another the quest for God and seed the wind blows and deserts turn around from dust is hope, it seems to say your face leaps on water iii. [...]
Tag: creativity
Words Can Praise It (To Achieve War)
Words can praise it. of what you must experience taste Nor believe will speak sincerely praising anything. To Achieve War he has the quality of a sphinx when it comes drops in like the same great change selected to achieve war. I had thought of publishing these two miniature poetry collages separately, but I like [...]
Eyes of All Mankind
the eyes of all mankind Whether seen or listened for from a mountain top over city sunset battered and sometimes torn still bears the minutes of splendor If you were stranger after another across the Western sky I'm learning that I very much enjoy making poetry out of the stuff of everyday life--cardboard and vintage [...]
Penny Harvests
rising wind, freshened earth, and then…the rains This is the message, too, to restore the weary. at a touch, To make the riches of harvests This simple visual poem happened (somewhat) by accident today, as I was experimenting with cardboard and paper. Perhaps something to try my hand at going forward.
On Collecting Things
When it comes to collecting behavior, I wouldn’t describe myself as a tried-and-true hobbyist. In fact, there isn’t one particular object or category of objects that generally fascinates me for long. And while I might go through phases in which I’m enamored by, say, watches, vintage magazines, or vinyl records, the likelihood that I would [...]
Forest Above, Forest Below
Forest Above, Forest Below, paper collage, 2020 we’re all barefoot in time wandering as if old things really do come back from this, everything follows: the moon becomes ecstatic the sky changes its name (laughing, knowing) will these names and faces ever come again? where fingers brush the metal best of man and seed
Lily Strikes the Hours
i remember the back of you as a lily strikes the hours every stone walks off and the morning sinks in an avalanche of footprints, petals and parables the sudden whitewashed limbs of you As I don't anticipate posting again this week, I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very [...]
The bird lies silver.
the morning is a postcard from my window the sky is criss-crossed and the shadow of a bird lies silver a face i know, if the day goes longer it’s because of you God bends rainbows in those eyes behind us, nothing arrives and nothing sails even the moon is someone else's you and i, [...]
The river will sing back.
i. we were copper once these same eyes (neither seen nor touched) now remembered in pictures in the space of a telephone pole in the vanishing, slit-black night awaken in your body and cover you like a bed of rain ii. in these same eyes a man unfolds like a miracle before a streetlight he [...]
The morning is a handful of birds.
(transformations) i. the morning is flat in my hands in my blood flows naked in the silence of my room somewhere another body another morning opens like a chest full of birds its sound extends to the world ii. divinity of a man armed with wind and water the wind confuses me the morning covers [...]
