Wednesday, September 23, 2009


Mesa Memo
Re structures --
the horizon and its lack
of cluttery maples,
turquoise too.
Structure and turquoise.
A color with vivid gloss
like that door in an adobe gate
beat up trucks,
the blue car in a driveway's shadow.
An abandoned house.
And everywhere turquoise.

Yesterday's weather moved
in strokes of rain over the high desert.
Blue-gray clouds flung the mesa
across the sky. The Chama
glowed muddy red and brown.
I'd forgotten about these colors.

I see it: sight line
of the same old same old
you know -- it's always trees, bird
breakfast or collage:
to make a blue door
from an old sock is the conundrum.

Off to find a river rock
maybe a mesa to take home
though they'll charge extra
in baggage, there won't be room
in the overhead bins
-- pack it in with other trinkets
adobe red, Chaco Canyon
swimming in Abiqui

This poem and collage exist partly because Dorothee
Lang, editor of the BluePrintReview, asked that I
send her some of the writings posted during my
trip to New Mexico. So I fiddled and she collaged
and the result can be read here and at just a moment.
Check it out. Thanks Dorothee!

Sunday, September 20, 2009


Stopped by the farm to pick up tomatoes -- the last of the season probably.
The place teemed with apple-picking families. The stand was filled with
'mums and I could smell the home made donuts. Fall is here. Leaves
are turning. It's my favorite time, October especially. I think
I've finally left summer behind, though for some reason it
took longer than usual to relinquish it. I'd still like one more sea
swim. I'm rushing through Frida Kahlo's diary (thanks Rebecca) so
that I can read it again. Amazing sketches, doodles, words, blots of
ink. Then onto other books. And to watching the fall climb
out of the skin of summer, shedding all that green.

Saturday, September 19, 2009


from my friend Alexandra's trees



Come here’s
a peach he said
and held it out just far
enough to reach beyond his lap
and off-

ered me
a room the one
room left he said in all
of Thessaloniki that night
packed with

The peach was lush
I hadn’t slept for days
it was like velvet lips a lamp
he smiled

the bed for me
I knew it was in fact
the only room the only bed
The peach

and he said Come
nodding to make me
agree I wanted the peach and
the bed

he said
to take it see
how nice it was and I
thought how I could take it ginger-
ly my

tips only touch-
ing only it Not in
or out I stayed in the doorway

a fly
He stroked the peach
and asked where I was from
I said the States he smiled and asked
how long

I’d stay
The fly had found
the peach I said I’d leave
for Turkey in the morning I

so much
to sleep and on
a bed I thought of all
the ways to say that word
and that

they must
have gradient
meanings He asked me did
I want the peach and I said sure
and took

it from
his hand He asked
then if I’d take the room
It costs too much I said and turned
to go

He said
to stay a while
and we could talk The sun
was going down I said no thanks
I’d head

out on
the late train but
could I still have the peach
and what else could he say to that
but yes

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo,

who writes:

Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn't the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.

Here I've posted a short video made with the photo, the music and the score (composed by the birds).

PS: thanks to Kelli for posting this...I'm passing it on from her blog.