Friday, November 21, 2014

Bookmarks List/Bedside Table

Currently reading/enjoying:

  • This amazing, amazing essay by artist/writer Tessa Hulls, called "On Silence." I adore everything she makes with her brain/heart/hands. Look how beautiful: "Technically, white is the combination of all other colors. As a painter, I understood this intellectually: in Antarctica, I learned to see it. For the first time in my life, I experienced whiteness in true isolation and saw its capacity to unhinge any understanding of boundary or scale."
  • Sophia Kartsonis's The Rub.
  • Bob Eckstein's lovely illustrations and stories, "The Endangered Bookstores of New York."
  • This interesting article about an art gallery in the Netherlands that features a Mood App, which allows visitors to explore art that has been categorized by emotion (Thanks to my pal, Clive, for sharing this!). Really interesting idea...
Happy weekend, friends! If you've been reading anything fantastic, please share.

Thursday, November 20, 2014



In the gabled house of hair-grown-long
go all folks to live when they have slipped
from sight but not from the disobedient

Window sheers here and light that drifts out
instead of in This is a several-towns-over place
and when you come closer it scoots to the
next available town

To find some peace you imagine it being gone
but a scientist tells you how wrong you are
She says Picture it existing Beloved inhabitants
rinsing jars and perfecting the arrangements
of books

She says Now know they will remain here
just out reach but quite well They do what
you do but many miles away The freeway
between here and there is a roaring river
Every once in a while just wave

Wednesday, November 19, 2014



Fast shadows on the road of the crazy birds above
The shadows have been summoned by life
and in a way they are also alive Their movement
is inspired by three dimensional birds

This train that passes before me
maybe the cargo it holds has been painted
onto its flank Parade float letters making a name
into a cartoon It could peel itself from metal
and wade into that pond

Tuesday, November 18, 2014



There are seasons because of
desire We shred the trees
because we beg them to hold
their leaves We can’t keep
red leaves but we can have
a bluer day Snow shadow and
sleep they are co-conspirators
Today I am the last to learn of
what became of my family’s
yard at our old house One day
the new owner’s dog brought
her a gift from the back back
back of the yard A cat skull
Our cats who died throughout
that time we buried them there
by the fence and milkweed
This isn’t the end of that story
but I won’t learn what comes
next Maybe this isn’t morbid
or a tragedy It could be an
impossible visit The friendly
dirt letting us know we have
been on its mind

Monday, November 17, 2014

Maybe There Is Nowhere New to Walk

Maybe There Is Nowhere New to Walk

As soon as you think it you know this is incorrect
It is just that we almost always have the same hunger
that sends us wandering

the same craving for colors that we eat in seeing the land

We designate as landmarks places within places and objects
Upon thinking of them the heart stirs

There are paths I still dream of

Naturally we return to place-beings for more
Moon-marked bridge pilings what did you want to tell me
Rocks easing yourselves beneath or above water how very
accepting of all this you are

Evergreens in all your weight you stand in steadiness

I hope someone else now comes to look at you