Sunday, April 25, 2021

Notes

Journal Excerpts

Being an artist is a unique curse. He is misunderstood but helps others see themselves.

God, I'd ask for my eyes to be blessed by folly but that's just as stupid as asking for wisdom.

I have to remember that my poet heroes are those who persisted despite the demons inside themselves. Some won. Many didn't. Those who won shook hands with their internal enemies and acknowledged that they were him and he were they.

She would tolerate her kitten's kneading her bare arm. She's accepted the pain of love, before.

God is more than a reflection of ourselves.

I was reading about Roethke's experience with writing. He let go a bit as he aged--he let loose and improved.

How to honor a painting with a poem? It's been done. How to honor a Van Gogh painting with a poem? One must be in tune with the spirit.

This is my favorite part of the day, sitting at my desk by the partially opened kitchen window and reading/writing just before dawn. The sky goes from deep blue, pink to purple, orange, and then there she is over the neighboring buildings. Likewise the color of the buildings change with the rising sun as the windows are lighted one by one, and the neighbors are rising. Now there is only two lighted apartment windows in the rear square yard. The sun is up.

"I keep making what I can't do yet in order to learn to be able to do it." Van Gogh to Van Rappard


Thursday, April 15, 2021

6

The rain eases.
A black-capped
chickadee trills
joy, screams relief.
So brash! The leaves 
clap encouragingly. 


Saturday, April 3, 2021

5

(Photo by Taslima Akhter)

The sea of stone 
in which they swim 
cements the lovers' 
embrace. 
                One wave's 
weight breaks 
her back. 
                The death-
grip strain stains his 
cheek, a final tear 
of blood.