flickr hearts

flickr hearts, originally uploaded by Sea Dream Studio.

a gathering of Flickr hearts

Artemis chides the night

Single Star Dawn, originally uploaded by thepres6.

Peel away this smooth silver bark, my love.
I have hidden my white flesh beneath
and there it waits unblemished.
You have plucked from me the myths
of mercy and salvation, purged my lips
of psalms and atonement. There are lilies
instead, sprung like egrets from your palms.

My prayers are sent on their wings,
parchment scrolls rolled tight and slipped
between the milky shafts of blanched feathers.
All of my pale promises are yours now,
given in the snow white hours. I want you
blinded by the silent brilliance of my body

hung before you like a new sail, empty
but for the want of wind. All of this I offer-
the gulf that shimmers between us,
morning’s reliable hunger for the sky,
every windowpane that catches the October moon.
I lift my arms, brittle as the aspen branches

found fallen after the wind. In this way you see me
as nothing except what you disdain,
a yawning chasm with walls of chalk
and thirst. I am not afraid to grow
dim in your eyes. I have lodged my radiance
in a borrowed star. You can not begin
to comprehend how much you love me.

going to Kansas City...

http://www.crossroadscommunityassociation.org/

Tomorrow Kate, Heidi and I are heading due north to KC, Mo. to visit Kate's boyfriend, Ryan. He attends Kansas City Art Institute. The best thing, besides seeing Ryan, is First Fridays. Artists in the Crossroads community keep their studios open into the evening. Approximately 60 galleries and studios make their home in the Crossroads. I can't wait to check this out! The weather should be perfect from strolling from gallery to gallery.

We'll be back late Sunday.

ROAD TRIP here I come!!!!

ofrenda

She assembles the shrine
on her back porch-
sugar skulls, marigolds,
votives, photographs
a bowl of tomatoes, coffee beans,
his Fitzgerald translation of the Rubaiyat.
There is a slender stack of letters
mostly from London and the Prado
postcard book filled with Goyas and da Riberas.
Finally she lays down the calf-skin gloves
that still remember the shape of his hands,
still curve as if they long to hold her.

Winter waits now beyond the fat round moon,
whispers through leaves that haven’t fallen.
Seven autumns have come and gone-
still she waits for the promised release.
The gifts of time and forgetting
slip through her fingers once more
with every orange petal she drops,
a pathway laid from the altar
to call his spirit home,
down the steps and across the yard.
Where to stop? Where to stop?

I remember...

Post Sugar Coated Corn Flakes box, originally uploaded by grickily.

when sugar wasn't a bad word...

H3

Vintage Moon Rocket Ride Poster at Moon Marbles, originally uploaded by Mike Willis.

Have you heard of helium-3? If not, you will. The race is on...
http://english.pravda.ru/science/tech/17-03-2006/77404-moon-0

Tao de Ching~ on shapes

The Way has no true shape,
And therefore none can control it.
If a ruler could control the Way
All things would follow
In harmony with his desire,
And sweet rain would fall,
Effortlessly slaking every thirst.

The Way is shaped by use,
But then the shape is lost.
Do not hold fast to shapes
But let sensation flow into the world
As a river courses down to the sea.

Example of what the Columbia River plume front looks like.At certain phases of the tide, the boundary between the river and oceanwater is visible as a long foam line between brownish water from the riverand more grayish or bluish water from the ocean

http://www.nwfsc.noaa.gov/research/divisions/fed/oceanecology.cfm

suburban sunrise 9-27-07

suburban sunrise 9-27-07, originally uploaded by Sea Dream Studio.

Another glorious morning in the 'burbs. Perfect temperature. And last night's full moon still lodged in my eye's memory.
I've gotten lots of art done this week... and a mountain of soldering. It's all good...

Is this what we have to look forward to???

Good grief~ 80-something years old and no sweets??? Why bother to stick around.

http://www.physorg.com/news109778656.html

this makes me happy!

http://www.johanneslinstead.com/cafetropical/intro.html

friggin' dogs...

Sally befriends a frog/toad (??? which is it???)... And why is that damn thing in one of my cereal bowls???
Lexy works on ruining the sofa...
Patches in deep denial of the fact that he is almost 15 yrs. old. He's the Hef of dogs. Sally and Lexy are his biotches.

These damn dogs... They conspire. Something is always coming out of one of them... some substance that I am required to remove. This, in no way, adds to the quality of my life. Why do I have animals in my house? They are good dogs, but not a one of them has saved a life, which to me is the hallmark of a really good dog. I mostly love them, but not entirely, not like I should. But they are sweet... my good puppies... sigh...

bad Santa

I loved the darkroom, the tang of those fierce chemicals in that small, closed up space, the glowing red timer. There was a feeling of alchemy in watching my father lift the wet prints with long wooden tongs, seeing faces swim into view. He printed 8 x 10s and 5 x 7s, clipped them to a wire to drip dry.

One year he took Santa pictures at the strip shopping center near our house. Outside of Grant's an iritable, ugly Santa sat in a outhouse-sized building, taking shivering children into his unwelcoming lap. My father, frozen, no doubt, snapped away for hours that December, weeknights and all day Saturday. Not one print caught that reluctant Santa with the hint of smile. Mostly he looked like he wanted a drink. The children were mainly oblivious, but some, you could tell, felt the chill of that creepy Santa. It was there, in those silvery prints, a uneasiness that hovered about their eyes.

Years later my younger sister would confide that the Santa at Grant's had slipped his fat, cold fingers into her panties. She was five.

more big sky country

big sky country, originally uploaded by Sea Dream Studio.

Flickr of fortune

fortune, originally uploaded by Sea Dream Studio.

Oh, I love all these fortune teller images! Hope you like them, too!

big sky country

Another walk to Will's bus stop and another spectacular sunrise. Do you see the butterfly in the lower photo? I swear, unless it is overcast, every sunrise and sunset in north Texas is amazing. My neighbors must think I'm wacky always taking pictures of the sky. Oh, well...

must see TV...

AMERICAN MASTERS
Orozco: Man of Fire
Wednesday, September 19, 2007 9 - 10:00 pm PBS
Often thought of as the other Mexican muralist, beside his more
flamboyant compatriot Diego Rivera, Orozco was a leader of the
Mexican Renaissance. His bold, dynamic frescoes had a profound
impact on American painters and inspired U.S. President
Franklin D. Roosevelt to put artists to work during the Great
Depression. (CC, Stereo)

Learn more at the companion Web site.

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/

communion

What of our offerings, the beautiful,
and the profane? We come together
at this altar, this place of desire
and peril, seeking, saving, holding
dear the wounds and roses we have gathered.

There are prayers for illumination,
another for the falling of a veil.
We remember a soft inflection
that brings a river of regret,
a certain shade of blue, a cornflower

glance across an infinite prairie.
We bear them up, our own relics,
the mundane, the nearly grand,
the hoped for, the abandoned.
These are our moments, pale petals

of open flesh we tender over
fraught waters. Often it is a cast
of light or a scent of limes and tallow
that brings us to our knees, some snare
that falls into our path and conjures

an hour when we rested in the hand
of mercy. There now, we find a way
to sleep and dream these things,
that we might breathe and endure
in this thin and unforgiving air.

port of call

Off the scalloped coast of Brewer’s Bay
I offer my gouache bones to the sea,
narrow blades and arcs beneath my tan.
This water owns me as it owns millions

of mirror-scaled fishes and anemones.
My heartbeat mimics the docile waves,
a syncopated affirmation; I am here.
The seabed is smooth, so close, I wonder

about the need for air. Could I stay
within this perfect blue, a glint
of sunlight or a ripple in the sand?
My cocktail waits, coconut
and Callwood, the local libation.

I am just a day-tripper, another migrant
with sandy feet. It is impossible
to remain, not all of me, only the part
that is rooted, a slender white cedar
on the cloudy crest of Sage Mountain.

meanness~ from the Tao de Dale

Okay, I will confess that there are many things in this world that I do not understand... compressed air, crop circles, flight, fundamentalists, algebra, Iowa... and so forth, but the hardest thing to wrap my mind around is meanness. Intentional ugliness. Of course I've hurt people with my selfishness, carelessness, inattention. There is often collateral damage in the way we live, but directed, premeditated cruelty is a whole other thing. I've seen it in thinly veiled as humor and boldly wielded like an ax. I suppose it comes from a damaged place within the perpetrator. I think perhaps it is best to feel compassion for such people as their spirits must be deeply marred.

jubilate!

Ah, much better now... having found wonderful elements with which to create! What a glorious day. I have decided to be benevolent and forgive the seasons for changing. Very generous of me, no? I love a fruitful search, a moment of joy. This will do nicely for today.

on the rim

Maybe I've had too much coffee (ha! as if!), but this is one of those tenuous feeling days. Sort of wobbly and vulnerable... yuck! Don't like it. I think it's the coolness in the air, the dreadful hint of autumn. It does not delight me. No, not so much...

easily amused...

Ah, Mr. Waffle puppets~ There was a time when these would have provided me with an embarrassing amount of joy and entertainment value.

A Baggie with a face~good enough.

Patriot's Day

Went to the observation at Will's school. Very touching to see all the kids singing. Some of the youngest ones weren't even born until after 9/11. These two boys were so sweet. They kept their hands over their hearts for the entire ceremony and just kept grinning at each other.

I drove home listening to Gen. Petraeus speaking to the Senate on Iraq. God, what a mess. How do we unravel such a tangled knot? So much sorrow....

In Kyoto

My restless sleep is shantung now.
I have mislaid the weightless surrender
that held no knots or slubs. Instead
I touch the poorly stitched threads
of recollection that unravel at my touch.

You bound me once in fine jacquard,
the raw fiber spun with thrust and verse.
I was a curled leaf in your brocade
cloak, gladly woven near the root
of a stunted maple that arched
across your back. It was enough
then to rest in a raised shadow
that your fingers sometimes found

Do you wear me still, tangled
in the lace petals of a plum
bower, waiting for winter
to reveal my face? Bamboo
and pine cover your sleeves
of snowy silk. How supple
they are in the icy wind.

It is August and I toss beneath
an unembellished sheet. In my dream
I am sewing arabesques and drifts
of frozen flakes up and down
the night-hued lining of your haori.

kick ass video

http://musicjesus.com/videos/watch.php?video=SmVAWKfJ4Go

magic words

SEDATION DENTISTRY

sweetness

I am not a superhero...

but I wanna' be one! I am trying to save the world (well my little enclave of it, anyway) and honestly, it is a bit harder than I'd imagined... but, no worries, my minions. Justice and prosperity will prevail! Have no fear... un-super me is on the job 24/7!

And... I have had an insomnia-born epiphany (and we all know how reliable those are!). I do actually think I've figured out something quite grand!! Time will reveal all. Now, back to work!

Limitless~ from the Tao De Ching

The Way is a limitless vessel;
Used by the self, it is not filled by the world;
It cannot be cut, knotted, dimmed or stilled;
Its depths are hidden, ubiquitous and eternal;
I don't know where it comes from;
It comes before nature.

naked eye

A flame red moon, the owl’s eye
winks, early fallen leaves
are dark confetti
on a well-kept lawn.

The eclipse has stolen my sleep,
tucked it away like a thief.
I am ever the lamb of the sky,
the easy mark, enthralled by cloud

and constellation. This night
it is the sharp edged umbra that enchants,
the nested shadows aligned,
Taurus and Orion on the eastern rise.

It is now, pale throat revealed,
upturned and empty, that I feel
most full, most able. The lucent coin
that hovers above is a portal.

In totality’s fire I dip my hands
and drink deep the lambent light,
a rendered radiance that bears
the sweetness of a pledge.

here's the problem...

that damn mammalian brain...

sky blog

Perhaps I should just devote this blog to the sunrise... since I'll be seeing it every morning. I really don't mind rising early. When I travel I am always up at dawn. I love seeing the day begin in new places. And Texas does rock when it comes to the sky. In no way does it compensate for how far I am from the ocean, but it is a fine thing and I appreciate it.

school days...

First day of school for my brood... There are some advantages to early rising. There are bunnies about and here in north Texas the mornings begin with a bit of fanfare in the sky.

I am left with a quiet house that feels very empty after nearly three months of summer vacation.

I do not like being a part of the mechanism that generates this sorrow.

attitude adjustment

Do I believe in HappyLand? Well, there it is in glorious black & white. It is (was?) in British Columbia of all God forsaken places. Hmmmm... the jury's still out, though I confess a bit of a leaning toward... not so much.
What do I believe in? Oh, I thought you'd never ask...
~the curative power of the sea
~flight
~music as a balm, a means of transport, etc...
~sailing
~scissors
~silence
~the Caribbean as a place of unparalleled magic and beauty
~secrets
~fairies, elves, talking animals (well, not really but I'd like it to be so)
~happy hour
~HappyLand... no, not so much.

well, well...

Yet another wonder... The IBPC has given a nod to my poem, "Immeasurable"... an honorable mention. The vastly talented Gary Blankenship took first place honors! Way to go, Gary!

http://www.webdelsol.com/IBPC/comentary.html

School starts on Monday. Fifth grade for Will, ninth for Ian, college for Kate. What brutal summer. I am actually ready for it to end... well, to begin ending, I suppose, is more accurate.

water ~from the Tao De Ching

The best of man is like water,
Which benefits all things, and does not contend with them,
Which flows in places that others disdain,
Where it is in harmony with the Way.

So the sage:
Lives within nature,
Thinks within the deep,
Gives within impartiality,
Speaks within trust,
Governs within order,
Crafts within ability,
Acts within opportunity.

He does not contend, and none contend against him.

score!

Ah, good news! I have gotten a most lovely order for pendants from a B I G international company! It has taken a little time to hammer out, but at last I have the order! I am very excited to have my work in this company's logo shop!! After my dental appointment I can get started on filling this nice, big order! Thanks to all powers that be!

scrapbook

I despise the backward look,
the dissection of every vignette,
filed and cross-filed into a tangled snare.
Memories lurk- threadbare hobos
with their crude cipher and astonishing agility.
They ride your ass if you slow down
long enough to let them on.

My mother rises unbidden at the scent of almonds.
Pretty and strong, she stirs the flames
beneath a pot of blood and kisses,
ladles the sticky-sweet fodder
into my bare hands.
I hate the recollection of her misplaced hope,
how it spilled onto me its inescapable taint.

Early on my father, young and cocky,
eyed a more inviting table.
He was a poor provider
whose own greed gnawed a hole too big
for us to fill and ate away the frayed threads
that barely bound him.

My siblings are blurs of black and white,
pushed to the periphery,
their faces are too much like mine,
the familiarity unbearable;
a funhouse mirror minus the fun.
I relegate them to a summer picnic
on a rare day of harmony
that I most likely dreamed.

And there’s me in scuffed red shoes,
panties sagging below the hem
of a homemade dress. My hair is long
and am holding a goddamned
biscuit of all things.
Look at how I gather every sort of anxiety
I can fit into my maw.
Already I was too hungry,
too willing, too lost.
This is the foundation I inherited-
one foot lodged in chaos,
the other in the most embarrassing sort of hope
that comes from too much reading
and climbing trees to look
into the neighbor’s kitchen windows.

It is better to forget than to sift for some
unlikely morsel that has lost its sweetness.
Wiser to disregard the sparse tenderness
that must have sometimes passed my lips.
Now I keep moving. Indistinguishable,
I say grace and remember nothing,
never think, for one minute,
that my belly might be filled.

What a relief!

Here I was thinking I needed swords and cannon balls.
Come to think of it, why would one wish to be protected from pirates?

I need some of this action...

Everything you can imagine, is real.

~Pablo Picasso