Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Long way to go
This is only one of many generations we will effect. Live here and now and spread the best.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Waiting while looking for a connection ...
After a few weeks, it is difficult to find direction without input. The news is moderately important, but will be found out in time.
Exchanges are of value, but especially when they are fully synchronized.
Execution is over-rated. It should be natural.
Exchanges are of value, but especially when they are fully synchronized.
Execution is over-rated. It should be natural.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Not the Last
The last penny that I found was over a remote desert wash. I still have not scraped off the encrusting. But there are others to consider.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Lost and Found (Amazing Grace)
I know every penny lost might not be found.
That's why I'm leaving plenty around.
And as each blue one --- kisses the ground
It's possible someone will hear that sound.
That's why I'm leaving plenty around.
And as each blue one --- kisses the ground
It's possible someone will hear that sound.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
After a lapse
I find pennies - that's what I do;
Sometimes nickles, maybe a quarter or two.
I pick them up, think of what they mean - then paint them blue
And spread them carefully - they're meant for you.
Sometimes nickles, maybe a quarter or two.
I pick them up, think of what they mean - then paint them blue
And spread them carefully - they're meant for you.
Monday, January 4, 2010
About Lucy (whom I saw again)
Saint Lucy in the Church of Valcadara
by Ghiralamo di Giovanni
(Translated from the Italian by Timothy F. Tarker - 1976)
Saint Lucy won't last too much longer, I know.
She's delicate, falling apart.
With lines on her forehead and dismantled face,
She bewailing must heave shallow sighs.
It's amazing to me she remains with such grace,
Dissolving before vacant eyes.
I wish I could go with my crayon in hand
And doctor her up just a bit.
The color she takes is incredibly bland,
Though she tastefully manages it.
Her halo gives ground with degenerate speed,
As her smile firmly fixes to stay.
Time is to blame for this dastardly deed;
And art to be praised in its day.
by Ghiralamo di Giovanni
(Translated from the Italian by Timothy F. Tarker - 1976)
Saint Lucy won't last too much longer, I know.
She's delicate, falling apart.
With lines on her forehead and dismantled face,
She bewailing must heave shallow sighs.
It's amazing to me she remains with such grace,
Dissolving before vacant eyes.
I wish I could go with my crayon in hand
And doctor her up just a bit.
The color she takes is incredibly bland,
Though she tastefully manages it.
Her halo gives ground with degenerate speed,
As her smile firmly fixes to stay.
Time is to blame for this dastardly deed;
And art to be praised in its day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)