Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Morning Rain Membrane


The water on the window
rolls down the long glass pane,
and taps against the barrier
of my peaceful morning.

Inside is dry and known,
the rain a membrane like a womb.
It beats irregular over the noise
creating space and clarity.

To be able to choose
to go to a room
with pouring rain an amenity

No silence, only raindrops
no noise, only rain
would be the ultimate luxury.



Excerpt Series inspired by Alejandro Cesarco

This series was created as a way to document moments of text that stand out in a body of work and tell their own story in a new context. A kind of copy and paste.
works inspired by artist Alejandro Cesarco, after a recent visit to his exhibit at le Plateau in Paris.


FROST
from The New Yorker February 10, 2014  
Bet The Farm: Robert Frost's turbulent apprenticeship.


 OA
From Harpers February 2014
The Oa: The pleasures and perils of whiskey by Colin McAdam




 from The New Yorker February 3, 2014  
Full Fathom Five: Derek Walcott's seascapes by Adam Kirsch

hard day's work

A hard day's work
Back bending
Feet Pressing
Into the sand
or into the grooves
worn into the deck of the boat.

Drag the catch in
pull in the ropes
the nets are tangled
by the fish inside

good day or bad it ends the same
Untangle
clean up
go home
Sleep deeply
if you can

tomorrow you'll be on your feet again

Great Big Blue

The Great Big blueness
around the little brown boat
was a carpet of ripples and waves and foam
concealing the world beneath

The wake of the little brown boat
left open a smooth passageway
into the great deep blue that expanded out below

The Great Big blue sky
reflected onto the ripples and waves and foam
the ocean disguised to resemble the
great big expanse of the open air above

the sky which is never ending and infinite
while the depth of the oceans are tangible
and defined by the earth's core

its shores are navigable and discovered
while the sky's beginning is as illusive as the horizon
and its territory is the final frontier



Jay O'Callahan: The Power of Storytelling

There is a lot of information here if you want to dig deep- or just listen and enjoy


Badlands


The badlands
Into the badlands the bad man ran
Hiding out from the hero’s of the lawless land
Canyon roads deep and narrow
Here the hawks eat the sparrow
Diving down to the depths of the ravines

Like the veins of his body
Pumping blood quickly, hotly
the system of trails branched away.
Deeper in he goes, more hidden, he knows
To evade capture and get away clean.

Kicks the sides of his horse
Thick skin but it hurts
The dust kicks up horseshoes a’ clicking

Seeing clouds up ahead
Through the rocks of dusty red
The sheriff looked up just in time.

Badge glints in the sun
Grit inscribed on his gun
His hat casting shadow o’er his eyes

He closed in on his man
Knowing time’s no one’s friend
with a rope wrangled him to the ground

one more vanquished bad man
in the long list of them
grit prevails with the sheriff around

Wintertime on A lake in Norway

four times per year
the provisions are delivered
four times a year 
once in dead cold

the roads are closed
and a boat's not an option
the lake is now ice
with a coating of snow

travel 'cross ice 
leaving tracks not to follow
they are a caution 
someone's passed here before
 
the sack on a sled
efficient and agile
at the start you say
I could have taken more

In the refuge oasis
 the island of tress
you can't stay too long
you feel safe, you won't leave

the wind may be biting
advance past the tree line
just think of arriving
on the far side

it seems too distant
with your heavy load
but you've done it before
knowing that's all you need

take the first step
where the ice isn't worn down
across to the clearing
with the old crooked tree
 
deliver the wares
warm up your feet
start plans for next time
prepare once again to leave