by Tim Girvin | Mar 20, 2011 | Diary
After the long running, days on daze of grim light, the proverbial oyster shell coloration of the Pacific Northwest wintering, low rolling clouds, the Sun merely a fuzzy luminescence. Today, for a moment, a turning to spring, sprung — that first evidence came to...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 18, 2011 | Diary
Rummaging for a hat, the other day, I found an old baseball cap that I’d given my daughter. She never liked it, though I thought she’d like the pug-like expression of the front panel. But didn’t. I think it might’ve been the coloration, which...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 12, 2011 | Diary
THE CIRCLED WIND I went out in the early dark this morning, in the storm. Wind, rain, cold whipped round — circling. And I stood in the center of the storm. I dreamed of that, the wind, the circling. And I could taste the wet, the salt of the sea That turned in...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 9, 2011 | Diary
SPINNING MIND AND IMAGINATION STORM I spilled the ink on the surface of the glass, milky underlayment and light flowing from beneath. There was light, showing through from the shadows, the street bound — lights, emerging. That floated the ink, so it whirled on...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 6, 2011 | Diary
(a hallway meandering found, a personal photograph of a detail of Cappy Thompson’s glasswork, Swedish Hospital: http://bit.ly/hvwWQu) MY FATHER AND MOTHER HAVE INSTILLED A LOVE OF PLANTING IN OUR FAMILY. The planting inheritance, a flourishing of the verdurous...
