….at the rain falling and the birds impervious, I wonder if the air they embroider is truly fresher and cleaner, while we all while the days away indoors. The photo-haiga in Gallery came from a pallette that caught my eye while waiting in the car some years ago, while my newly independent son shopped for […]
Looking out the window… Read More »
….is nothing new for me, but now so many others are doing the same…whether they want to or not. My work has served me well, and I hope that I have served it equally. But something drove me to, well, deface my old accounting diploma, and, um, repurpose it to serve the new creative direction
…I just can’t leave it alone. The image in Gallery is from 2012, the year spring started in February. It was warm enough in early March to lie in the grass and watch the geese fill the sky with noise. The poem in Reading Room, came later, in 2016, but still inspired by that unmistakable
At a junk store – excuse me, antique market – northwest of Brampton, I see some shelves of tiny items and figurines for cheap, cheap, cheap. Two little figures catch my eye: a tiny cast-resin teddy bear, looking quizzically to its left, and a tiny ceramic figure with a cap, long coat and black bag,
Vicky Burrus comments on her assemblage (Gallery) Read More »
….I learned that the word ‘paradise’ comes from the ancient Persian term for ‘walled garden’. The walled garden being described was on a carpet, intricately patterned with trees, birds, and flowers and divided by canals filled with fish. My walled garden still rests under snow, as the birds and bees still rest in points south.
on visiting the Aga Khan Museum…. Read More »
On the feast of Saint Valentine in warmer climes than our own the birds and bees begin to pair while we enjoy the frigid air and watch the snow come down like a world of tiny billets-doux 2019
On the Feast of Saint Valentine Read More »
…is a study of bougainvillea, blooms that are as evocative when they fall to earth and within reach as they are massed over our heads. In Reading Room is a memory of a long past vacation to Barbados. Today, my recent trip to Patzcuaro MX starts to fade in the winter sun. A sudden scentless
an interlude in the tropics… Read More »
Why do I have seven typrewriters? Why not. Most belonged to my late father, who also seemed to think you couldn’t have too many of them. Two are electric, not on display, and untested. Of the five seen in Gallery, four function and have new ribbons. All contain typed poems. Of course, their useful lives
Musings on technology Read More »
Which year indeed? The image in Gallery is a photo-haiga, a haiku with image, from 2015, and the poem in Reading Room is a meditation on New Year’s from 2016. These were my thoughts on writing the poem…plus ca change, plus c’est la meme shit? It’s a trite topic, New Year’s. I’m inclined to write
New Year’s – but which New Year? Read More »
…Christmas on the heels of the solstice is a mixed bag o’ gifts. (Coal and diamonds are related, after all.) Tonight, a fire in the fireplace, a glass of wine, A Child’s Christmas in Wales on the stereo, and reflections on a creative day, and indeed a creative year. Love to all.
Dark blue days and thoughts of love… Read More »