Heritage, tangled up with things nearly heard;
the faint rustle of lineage and blood lines, carved journeys of experience
this recorded quiet always brings with it some of the noise, static voices of the past
intruding in
for #ds106
Heritage, tangled up with things nearly heard;
the faint rustle of lineage and blood lines, carved journeys of experience
this recorded quiet always brings with it some of the noise, static voices of the past
intruding in
for #ds106
Chromatography and Serendipity
An artist hardly knows what ink might make what the spill might create when the fiber takes the colors for a run
Poetry Reading
Some of the best poets we read ask that we not never not ever use their voice when devouring their verse - an argument that it's best for a reader to cut their own lips along the margins of the page, gnawing like small jackhammers on internal rhythm and rhyme beating out time in order to best discover something like love
for #ds106
We are merely transient, travelers here for such short times, these turning leaves of Autumn remind us that we must pause to savor each moment, to rediscover repose, arc the eyes at an angle from which to look anew at a beautiful world forever in transition
— for #ds106
Every Poet Is a Juggler
What at first glance seems simple enough - one word after another, so how hard could it be? - turns complicated when a writer realizes not every word belongs before the previous or after the other and failure becomes another poem dropped like lightbulbs to the floor
— for #ds106
Shredded paper pictures – do your best on this Rorschach test - we're only watching to witness what it is you make — what three pieces of abandoned trees, create — then, compost the art, as fiber fill – freeze the frame in image, still
for #ds106
We close our eyes as the end of summer breeze blows by; nothing today but clear blue skies
for #ds106
What gobbledygook we took and whatnot, too so flummoxed with malarky, bamboozled by you
for #ds106
ıʄ ơŋƖყ ɛ۷ɛཞყ ɬყ℘ɛʄąƈɛ ῳɛཞɛ ą ʂɛƈཞɛɬ ℘Ɩąƈɛ ῳɧɛཞɛ ℘ơɛɱʂ ɠơ ɬơ ʂƖɛɛ℘ - ı'ɖ ℘ơıŋɬ ɬơ ɬɧɛ ʂ℘ąƈɛ ῳɧɛཞɛ ῳơཞɖʂ ཞųŋ ɖɛɛ℘
for #ds106
Running fingers along the edges of bark and roots of the forest, early morning flower petals yawn in numbers and open in sequence, prints of inhabitants paw the dirt, each track another magic trick of mathematics
for #ds106