Saturday, October 26, 2013

Moving Portraits (with Tess P)

Perhaps Leonardo Di Vinci described clouds as bodies without surface that never sit still for a portrait. And much as Mondrian painted tree trunks that rise from the ground into which their roots have penetrated only to disappear into panels of bright color and brushstroke – today I am moved by the sight of faces caught in the windows of speeding trains going the other way. Half-smile, glazed eyes, I stop what I am saying in mid-sentence.

Maybe part star and stargazer, dumbfounded to find the relative racing past us in that distant glitter that spilled over holidays, we open our mouths to the scintillating snow falling onto our faces as if to speak.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Fall Mystery (guest blogger Julian M)

Perhaps the field that was once green is now golden and tan; the tree has no leaves on its branches but a blanket for its feet, preparing itself for the long winter ahead.

Maybe my eyes search for light - dwindling, fading - until something is visible in the distance. A ray of reflection from a glittering source. What could it be?

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Red Rose (with Tania P)

Perhaps we see a rose as red, yet the one color in which the eye sees it dressed is the very color the rose rejects – and much remains hidden in the solitude of each silken pinwheel grown thick with fragrance where unseen colors continue to dwell.

Maybe that is best, to allow the center its private inward furl--a destination navigated most unbiased by child, dreamer, painter before assuming palette.  How tightly each petal grips the common stem. How equally pleasing: plucked petal and its perfect swath around three sides of human thumb.  

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Light (with Tania P)

Perhaps light is the opposite of entropy, travelling at a speed hummingbirds match in nectared dreams of planets without kestrels.

And maybe as this thin purple visitor pushes its way into the darkness it streaks right to left before disappearing; traveling toward some unreachable point well past the Milky Way after emptying the menace of our minds onto the still wet grass – after brightening fallen fruit and illuminating the rotting boards behind the barn.