xoxo oxox! ---- h a p p y v a l e n t i n e 's d a y Tim Girvin

G A L V A N I Z E D When I awakened, the silence was deafening; it was so quiet, I couldn't make out a single sound. No electrical humming, no other breath, no sense of stirring, no lapping wave, shorebound. There was nothing, in something -- merely the absence. Of any thing. Except the beating of my heart, exhaling and inhaling blood. Then, the softest patter, then more -- rain, coming down on the galvanized roof. This overhangs my house, as if a kind of sound gatherer, for what weather...

Feather shuffling, for one; standing, surveilled -- hawk-eyed seer. love : T | decatur island 2.10.07 / 11.22am

m a d e l e i n e & g a b r i e l l e What each of us knows is that there's always a passing to every little thing -- to every large thing, from the smallest insecta, to the grandest universe, and it's hard to face that; know - that it's each, for all. All, end one. There was a poem, long back that I spoke to -- repeated -- to your Mom. I never forgot it. And I'm sure she never did, either, to the simple character of the missive. I might have drawn it out for her, as well -- as a gift. And...

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 depth to see how I could transfer it to a hand, and then set about bringing it to life." The hardest part of his job is watching his creations disappear down the drain after they're photographed. "I'm getting used to it," Daniele shrugs. "At least I get to start each day...

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 in salttime, turned to fossil, metalmade and discovered. Lying down, lain, lining lied once. Told the truth, all -- the others. Found. Renewed. The right eye, Scene, noted. Morning culled. Coins, like ideas hammered. t. | queen anne

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

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. ---- Little Luna | Gabrielle My little spirit still young, yet in the movements of her young body housing the old soul that searches there -- and is -- the ancient mystery of that : the potent feminine, surges in the tide of time and seeing all that passes her gaze beauty there, in the...

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 that. If you didn't get that, and would like to be on a list foremailings of meditations on design, and other things that relate to it, then let me know, I'll make sure of it. And you can let me know to the...

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 pass. Miracles whorl. And new things come out -- in another understanding. In the passage of events, learnings turn, discoveries translate, and in this, visions emerge. Fire and the firing is like that -- the metaphor of things transformed, objects translate to new revealing. And in the person, the discovering of fire, what is seen -- is changed....