Category: Art
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Poetry In Motion
Arabian Dance AcroBuoBallet This is pure ellagance and symytry, audio, and visual poetry.
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Wild Magic
Another old one from the early ’80s… Places it in the same time-window that I’m currently describing in my continuing memoir. Wild Magic I am the wild magicThe promise of oldIn order to articulateI must learn to be bold The entire universeWill dance to my tuneBut first – shed the cacconBehold the sun and moon…
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Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy
An old PBS performance from 1977, but one of my favorites; and better than any of the orchestral versions that I’ve heard (IMHO). Sarasate’s virtuosoity and arraging genius are featured in this, his take on Carmen. Perlman’s performance of Sarasate’s fiddle fireworks steadily intensify right to the very end.
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Black River Mystery
Black River Mystery down in the Black Riverfloodplain not far fromcattails and clumps ofriver-birch, snuggled inwith rag-weed, QueenAnne’s Lace and St. John’sWort sits a square patchof young five and sevenfrond-leaf plantings sixfeet high, approachingharvest strength – perhapsnext week where did they gobig mystery of the floodplaindry patch of ground – fiveand seven frond dream-makers gone…
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Summer’s Almost Gone
This is an older poem I came across while going through my old journals for material to use in my memoir. I wrote this in August of ’83 while sitting in a bus shelter waiting for the number 9. Summer’s Almost Gone August rains are coldThe sky is crying Wind gusts blow me downThe sky…
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Silence in Motion
Silence in Motion an inky void sashaysthrough the sunrise longshadows on stealthycat’s paws from beneath the grapefriuttree, across the porchto the fountain’sreservor takes a long drinkthen some personal grooming asbright yellow eyes peer through thescreen door for any canine objections –LE
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Seventy-six Trombones
Seventy-six Trombones seventy-six trombones in the big paradeplaying the seventy-sixth part of the gamewondering how deep is the benchhow many more ready to take my place? guess it’s all moot since strings areall I’ve ever played, four, six, and twelvefretted and fretless, trombones in asense I guess, nonetheless circlings of Sol a trombone eachanticipating the…
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Late August, Morning Ride
Late August, Morning Ride Sol rising, 20 degrees off thehorizon casting long shadowsalong the path, barcoding thebarios we’re rolling through sunward, the bone-dry riverbottom, half submerged inshadow twitches with lifeferal, stealthy, waiting ring-ding-ding bwaaah ring-ding-ding bwaah of under-powered motorbike playingchicane in morning traffic homeless sprawl across thepath in underpasses, accidentswaiting to happen, carelessof themselves and…
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Some Older Paintings and Drawings
I didn’t get serious about art, that is painting and drawing until after I retired, January 1, 2010. I had dabbled with it a little over the years with help from Mom when I was very young, then a bit in high school. But I didn’t produce anything exceptional and was pretty much discouraged by…
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Where Are We – Am I?
Where Are We – Am I? a matter of perception, as are all thingshere, there, everywhere, nowhere, all the samein perspective, finding relativities and domains imbeded in streams and eddies of space/timemeditating … at one, or fighting, kicking, screamingregardless, ends as do all things … entropic disolution yes, some flash-out, burn-out, peter-out, wink-outfilter-out, turn-out, poop-out,…
CynOp 