Compositionally Driven

Perhaps it is because clouds are camels one minute, streaming hair the next, that we gather like sea birds come to rest upon the ocean’s churning waves while making our way to the pebbled shore. Water kept on the move is made to do things; when static is as wasted and provoking as a buried talent.

Maybe this natural flow of creative spontaneity restores buoyancy to our ancient conversation between the sea and the seashore.

Dedicated to the memory of Karl Fisher: Feb. 20, 1960 - Feb. 20, 2013.  

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Perhaps, Maybe, Because (with JHG)

Perhaps pheromones are maybes, physical maybes. Perhaps maybe is a language, a requiem for all the dead languages we have spoken, all the blue notes we have ever proposed with no room for because, because because is a dolt with big feet who is not your friend and will only leave you hanging, sticking to what and how and when. But perhaps, maybe now there's your best friend at the open door of language.

And maybe if you were to write a sentence with the word sentence in it not once but twice or even three times, you might shape the items that sentence gathered in with a tender touch, tinker with the fit, tether each green garden, moonlit pool, lemon, lover, and starry night before dissolving them (along with all the radiance of an opal sky) in an unbreakable bond between hand and eye that sets the stage for the actor who becomes her role, as we sometimes say, if for no other reason than to savor the sweet taste of the line.