This photo is from awhile ago, but it's still one of the truest portraits ever taken of me (thx Tarikh). It's who I am, want to be, ever will be. (I miss that coat, I'll always be a bit of an 80's punk rock kid, for better for or worse) . . .… Continue reading Life is what happens while a series of dreams or ideas play out; and then you decide what you’re willing to own.
I had one of those odd coincidences earlier this week. At my new job, we are sometimes availed of complimentary tickets to events— for example this week it was attendance to a two o'clock performance of Ravel's Bolero (and two other pieces, but that was the star) by the NY Philharmonic on Jan 20th. It just… Continue reading The dream of many waltzes
This morning I woke to find a black bird walking around in my kitchen. When I walked in, she startled and flew smack into the window a couple of times. I opened a screen for her, but she flew into the living room and affixed herself to a screen before I got another one open… Continue reading The bird in my kitchen, and other prophecies
Saturday: it’s windy and feels like l’automne; fans dormant and kitchen window lowered almost shut, so things on the table there don’t wind up on the floor. one. I was traveling in some parallel Europe; Scandinavia, and without much in the way of maps or even plans. Improvising. I followed a couple out of a… Continue reading Two drawings and two dreams, all unrelated
Looking out upon falling snow in a fierce wind, having read the latest news (that has spoiled my coffee, again—) Gone cold, with my views or once-belief regarding some inherent goodness— A bleak feeling that renders even this brutal, unkind weather beautiful Gentle, by comparison. Each day, what counts as News defiles sense. Escalation, unsustainable (please) Noah's mythical flood Now… Continue reading Looking out upon falling snow in a fierce wind
Until, both suddenly and in agonizing slow motion it seemed, the ceiling came crumbling down— a great sodden mass of sheetrock, the way a wet cardboard box falls apart when overburdened.
It housed much of what I had been missing, as in the poem— symbolically, aspects of myself suffering some neglect. No mistake that the sprawling, feverishly researched and planned-for projects were the first things I unearthed.
Something in the air shifts, and I lie down with the cows before the rain arrives. It isn’t barometric.
I had vivid, authoritative dreams that told me to answer questions simply, without explanation. Stern yet well-intended: cut the rambling exposition. Some things don’t need it; some explain themselves. Still others—wait, there I go. (You see what I mean?)I woke to the wrong day’s weather, and didn’t have the sense or maybe the energy to rearrange… Continue reading simplicity & inverses
Here is a tiny excerpt from a dream that I'm certain is somewhere in one of my books, but when I searched for it a couple of months ago I could not for the life of me find it. Was a long and winding one. I began writing a short story based upon it but lost the… Continue reading Celestial navigation, dream parallels
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 