Friday, July 31, 2015


Strong morning light splashed wood with delicious afterimage. Early evening fog rolls in, the wooden fence is blank.  Blank, because I didn't look closely?

Is "blank" close to "empty?"  A blank sheet of paper; an empty plate?

I wonder what was erased when light  fled?

Is a bowl ever complete & empty?

I wonder what will be, breakfast?

1 comment:

  1. Facing an empty page is no problem when one has a backlog of writing to draw from. Or to draw on. Recently I realized the wealth of overlooked words and paper on which nothing had been drawn, and so began drawing upon them. Looking at the fence in my backyard as well as the one above, I am stunned by the lack of empty in any sense, at least in my own private world. The only remedy is to throw out and throw toward other surfaces--redistribute if you will. In vino veritas!


    Since way back then, the leaves grew fiercely, and we had no way of stopping them. Great fires were made in the backyard and smelled up the air, and when we had raked up one pile to burn, we had to stand around guarding it so all the leaves wouldn't blow away.