Saturday, June 26, 2010

Leaping ...

I am not the only one who thinks my new sleeping bag is cozy.

I unwrapped it this afternoon and tossed it on my couch.  This evening I saw a little flash of green on the carpet: a lizard had found its way in and was hopping about.  It hopped over my flip-flops, climbed up my couch's leg, and slipped and scurried its way into the silvery-green folds of my sleeping bag.

Then it flattened itself between the folds, where it came to rest.  It's welcome to stay, as far as I'm concerned, especially if it takes an interest in that fly that's been buzzing about.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

The Deep Heart's Core

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

and a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, and a hive for the honeybee,

       And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

       And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day,

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore.

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

      I hear it in the deep heart's core.

William Butler Yeats wrote "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" about a place that lived partly in memory and partly in imagination, an island he thought of as an idyll and a refuge.   This past week, I found myself  thinking about my own Innisfree and dreaming of planting my own bean-rows, of living very simply in a little cottage with some hens and lots of time to paint and write and play music, to be amongst the leaves and grasses and water.  The pictures are from two places, one of which I know better than the other, but both of which feel very much like home.

Where is your "Innisfree?"
What poem would you illustrate with your photos?

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Bubble Gum

We've been in a sticky situation lately.
I don't know about you, but I could use some bubble gum.

Penn Station, New York
May 16th, 10:00 am

May 16th, 4:00 pm

Is this gross or funny? 
I like the colors;
the way they're so raggedy and wild
but so neatly within the square.
And I liked watching the "installation" evolve throughout the day.
Could we call this public art?

(It reminded me of this wall in Seattle.)

What do you think?