by Tim Girvin | Apr 26, 2011 | Diary
WALKING LONG, THIS PATH When I look out to the horizon, I can see that there is a ladder, it’s the sequence of step, on step, on step: wrung rung — but while it’s flat on the earth, I’m dreaming that it’s going skyward. Every rung, each...
by Tim Girvin | Apr 25, 2011 | Diary
While there is swing, and drift, the calligraphy of the black wing — like the curling path of the Raven, there in the morninglight, with the spatter of rain, the sun just glimmers through. I can only dream that today will reveal something remarkable —...
by Tim Girvin | Apr 23, 2011 | Diary
DARK, THEN LIGHT. AGAIN. I’m going from dark, to light — then back again. I’m walking into the dark time; then back to the light time. But any path, light, and dark — that is the Beauty way. You wind, and turn, enter and egress — and keep...
by Tim Girvin | Apr 22, 2011 | Diary
Walking the desert, north of the Apache lands, Arizona Out in the scrabble, the high light of the desert highlands — the cactus plains, I thought about the ancient ways, the long walk. These journeys — seeing the Navajo, out in the middle of nowhere...
by Tim Girvin | Apr 21, 2011 | Diary
I’M STANDING; BUILDING. AND THINKING. I’m standing before a building — it’s uptown, off Central Park; it’s not a beautiful day, and I’m heading to a meeting. I’m late — in the striding fury of trying to put too many...
