Each hand ticking towards destruction never stops, and yet, here we are, people of the world, working towards a common goal: for peace, we must pause the clock
for #DS106 Daily Create
Each hand ticking towards destruction never stops, and yet, here we are, people of the world, working towards a common goal: for peace, we must pause the clock
for #DS106 Daily Create
Too dark to see so I ask her, and it's the same answer as nearly every morning until seasonal darkness fades and our eyes can see for ourselves
for #ds106 #DailyCreate
Sound waves, in harmony, accent a melody, a noise, note, tone with a complex vibration and voice, amid the din, the pitch modulates in resonance and sonancy
a thesaurus poem, with “sound” as key word for #ds106 Daily Create
Music plays quiet chord - sharp sounds
for #ds106 — a sestetle
On a long walk through woods, I notice only your natural beauty,
but beneath your dress of wood and rock - your back now bent
from the burdens of time and use; our footprints, the weight of the weary,
long, now, these years, and also, worn down to fragile bone - you sigh the sigh of heavens
Forever in motion, you flow over rocks and ramble, while we, the debris, float with you, following you, trusting you to guide us back home
for #ds106 Daily Create
Art: a novel a painting a film an act of communication between audiences
You're the one saying it, from your unique life experience; a particular moment,
by living in interaction
We bring meaning into the world — don't let anyone tell you otherwise
blackout poem uses the last paragraph from “Why A.I. Isn’t Going to Make Art” by Ted Chiang in New Yorker magazine for #ds106
I held the book:
a place; hurrying through harbor lanes with furtive windows
I hastened, sheltered, a glimpse;
one had seen me, still, a blank laugh echoed
what worlds in that strange volume -
the unseen feet, padding
Summer storms change this landscape, forcing the small river to flow where, normally, it would not go
And all we can do is watch
For water finds its way, never gentle in the aftermath of tempests like this; Instead, it rages like a lion sprung loose
And all we can do is worry
And wait for the calm, the days following deluge, to find what paths remain and which, disappeared, ghost trails of memory
And all we can do is wonder
For #ds106 Daily Create on Wendell Berry’s birthday
Rivers like us know we must follow bends where current flows, but still push against it, in acts of resistance, curving against rock and stone
a Grook (sort of) for #ds106 #dailycreate