a poem..... |
IN THIS SEASON OF ROAD KILL for Marine Sgt. Jason CookThrough this thickmourning fog,along Dike Path-Trail,I drag ancient songs.Here, at N0-Name Slough,where salt touchesthe ordinary,where silent-s...
Posted by on Wed, 24 Sep 2008 12:33:00 GMT |
The Pulse of Remembering..... |
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Posted by on Fri, 15 Jun 2007 13:22:00 GMT |
....a simple mystery.... |
....reading a Tony Hillerman mystery....i love how he weaves the gentle spirit and traditions of theNavajo through his stories...to bring harmony back into balance...to cure not punish...and that...al...
Posted by on Thu, 07 Jun 2007 10:13:00 GMT |
words for my father born... June 1, 1917 |
...the following words were written and read at my father's funeral...February 19, 1999..........click to enlarge......
Posted by on Fri, 01 Jun 2007 09:37:00 GMT |
...a quiet day... |
...walking the waterfront yesterday after heavy rain...quiet air...quiet water...the damp air is humid with the thick scent of rain-wet wild roses as i pass...the tide is out and the mud-flats hold be...
Posted by on Tue, 22 May 2007 13:09:00 GMT |
Burning Word 4..... |
...a day of poetry workshops, readings and small press books at Greenbank Farm on Whidbey Island......a featured poet was Naomi Shihab Nye...her words are political in a gentle voice......she speaks f...
Posted by on Sun, 20 May 2007 13:46:00 GMT |
World Rhythm Festival |
spent the weekend of the 15th at seattle center...the World Rhythm Festival feeds my spirit...days filled with hand drumming, african dance, drum circles and multiple workshops...beautiful sun and goo...
Posted by on Thu, 26 Apr 2007 08:36:00 GMT |
pioneer square...march 29 2007 |
walking Seattle streets with a friendwe both hold camerasdoes that make us photographers or just gatherers of momentshe aims his eye downward, geometric shapescalling to himwhile i aim my eye upward ...
Posted by on Wed, 04 Apr 2007 19:20:00 GMT |
the wind...a poem |
THE WIND IS MY NATURAL MOTHERI touch the sun-warmedkitchen table,tracemy fingersacrossits wood-grainas i gazeat the dancing dandelions in the green-glassvase casting ripples and rhythmsacrossthis blue...
Posted by on Sat, 10 Mar 2007 08:01:00 GMT |
echoes....a poem |
WHERE LONG ECHOES MEETThe pink blossomsof the plum treerise highabove the twisting danceof the contortedhazelnut, proudwith golden tasselshanging looselyin the succulent scented air-and yet-somewhere...
Posted by on Tue, 27 Mar 2007 09:20:00 GMT |
