Monthly Archives: January 2007

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Hand-some…

What is the spirit of the hand, the art shown, the puppet catalyzed anew? When Italian artist Guido Daniele was hired by an advertising agency to create body painting of animals, he loved the idea. “I researched each animal in … Continue reading

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days poem

Speech, like smoke, wafts just borne — right, whenthat calling — culled, is true. behind that smoke, found surveil, what lies — perhaps lying beneath; truth be told: twice tales and new coins found, there waterdown like sea anemones forgotten … Continue reading

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m i s t i n g n e e d l e | 5:30am

Wherefrom, it came? Morning clarion, called — needlerise. wishing well, in all emergences: t. | seattle

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Luna

Gabrielle, good morning, sweet second borne daughter — hoping that you are feeling better this day. This image came to me. And reminded me of what we’ve been talking about. It made me think of you in this way. —- … Continue reading

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Beautiful trash: green

Hi and good morning. I might’ve sent you the notes on Stuart Haygarth’s sculptural work with trash. http://www.stuarthaygarth.com/default.asp?V_SITE_ID=14 Beautiful trash:The Tide Chandelier. It is about green design, green art. People who get some of myemailings have asked where I found … Continue reading

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Things that we found in fire

T H I N G S T H A T W E F O U N D I N T H E F I R E Meditations on fire. In the consideration of passing, things move on. Moments flicker. Friends … Continue reading

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memoria

it is about that, remembering. you look back, to what has been, to see more of what is, and finally, what shall be. —— Some might’ve spent the day focused on the recollections of MLK. Others: recalling other things. I … Continue reading

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today’s poem

Like that. “L’ecriture est la peinture de la voix. This, those that frame vision in those other things, than the norm of the common piece, easiest scene, found. But still, isn’t it so that we can find, that the most … Continue reading

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two dew

two dew —- in the fertile stretches of the imagination i envision a watered gather, two fluent spheres hanging there nurtured by the rainstorms of the mind, spirit congealed, in cold mineral liquid, tinged in bark, lichen spilled from the … Continue reading

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In the passage of the year, closing one, opening another, I do ponder the meaning of it. But really, it seems so arbitrary. Who’s to say that there’s a meaning to the passing of days, daze, and the movements of … Continue reading

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