Wednesday, November 27, 2019
Sometimes it's looking down between your feet that inspires, that tosses you into the cosmos. And you are gleeful & grateful. Tomorrow is the Day of Gratitude. The turkeys are strutting unafraid, oblivious. And that's another blessing.
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
as pens. And clouds as ink. At the same time, trees can be knives slicing through a yellow heirloom tomato. Right now, I am missing heirloom tomatoes, are you?
Monday, November 25, 2019
everywhere, somewhere. In focus & sometimes slightly to the left of clarity. Reminds me a meal that didn't quite soar, didn't have the requested pizzaz. Or a line of a poem that only called in dried leaves and the withered. And yet, I have with relish harvested dried magnolia leaves this late harvest while remembering lush roses.
a life, a story splayed upon hard surface. I think of the hard surface of raw buttercup squash and a knife as its equal. I think of a fountain pen etching into fine rag paper. I think; I walk; I cook. I write.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
blue/violet Mid Season bearded iris. Unexpected this late in November. The unexpected brings beauty. I remember last night's citrus pie. Unexpectedly, light & fresh. I hope to be caught up in an unexpected word frenzy later this evening.
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Friday, November 22, 2019
Thursday, November 21, 2019
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Absences of all kind fascinate me. I think of it as kin to convex and concave. Two sides of a spoon. A pen writing; a pen resting on a desk. Do you think benches hold the imprint of people? Is the same true of a pen, a keyboard?