the snowy day

i have many favorite children's books, with lovely memories from my childhood (& bibliophile parents) as well as my own children's early years.  one book from both is The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats.  (i, actually, always enjoyed his book Peter's Chair more, but The Snowy Day is a classic.)  i love, love, love the illustrations for these books.  & today was such a day.

crunch, crunch, crunch.

a snowy day.

but, really, this post is a modest homage to Ansel Adams.  whose work i have adored for several decades.  long ago, my favorite photography with my old film camera was working in black-and-white.  which, really, means working in shades of gray.

crunch, crunch, crunch.

a snowy day.

dogwood buds

ski pants are really noisy.

so is fluffy snow.

birdbath

three clothespins

ladder left overnight

still empty

the four sisters

considering fragments

i have been inside for approximately seventy-three hours.

things could definitely be worse, but i'm

starting to get a smidge stir-crazy

and contemplating reckless behavior.

like eating yet another chocolate bar.

we had a lovely snow burst yesterday

that swirled around

like a ripped-open feather pillow.

a quick, frigid dash for photographs

(& the geometric mirror on the back porch

that reflected triangular snow scenes,

disjointed parts of the whole)

gave me an idea.

i did not know we had so many mirrors in our house.

(however, i did know we had that much dust.)

i can honestly say i do not use the mirrors

to stare at myself.

or, even, to glance for any measureable

length of time.

most mornings i get to work

& have a jarring realization

i have absolutely.no.idea

what i look like that day.

i forget.

do mirrors show what others see?

or are they always a reflection

of yourself?

taking these photographs,

i started to enjoy seeing

what the mirrors see.

partial truths.

 

i use the mirrors to reflect light.

 (and for the occasional need to remove an eyelash

that has gotten stuck to my eyeball.)

used nefariously,

mirrors spy on people.

but i like them best

when they show the world

back to me

in a way

i had not considered.

{words} [words] {words}

i've been taking blurry photographs recently & feeling unfocused in general.  i keep rubbing my eyes, but it hasn't helped.  and, now - snow days, which knock me right out of my routine and quite make my head spin, adding to my overall fuzziness of being.  so i decided to thumb through, what else?, old (very old) poetry (mine).  back from when things were clear as mud.  indulge me (& a few retrospective tweaks).

painting

after an age

passes in my mind -

anger molten - only then

will i challenge

your nebulous conclusions

and tempt eternal

damnation.

even in pomegranate skies

is there

risk of agreement.

i actually have no clue what provoked this poem (though, like you, i can make some guesses), but i love that i used the word pomegranate twenty-five years ago.

birthing
 

against this membrane

i work the walls with sodden hands

stretching thin my sweet sack.

then lids blink blue and shocked

as i fall

out but in to merge
in simple reunion with life.

again, not sure of my motivation...but i remember looking back on this poem quite a while after (literally) birthing & feeling some amazement at the physical accuracy i conveyed at age twenty.

after

there is an air

in my mouth these days

that i've not tasted before.

a texture of violets

against my tongue,

barely perceptible

roughness beneath the velvet.

and i shall throw open

the window of my room

to drench my lips

in this wind.

ah, amor.  i have many poems that speak of this.  most of which will remain hidden.  really, they would make you blush.

playing with my shadow

bright sunshine;

wind from the south.

banish the lizard;

& bring the shadows

out to play.

fingers and triangles

 

 

 

catching a circle

 

 

shadow gardening

 

 

hanging laundry

climbing

 

 

 

 

 

in the trees

 

 

thanks for playing, Sun.

absolute | elsewhere

full stop when i first heard this.  summer solstice festival, painted bodies & fairy wings, held every june within walking distance of our house.  & i've tried to catch her in the four years since (free, in town).  here's an earlier post from one of those times.  she has put out a new album recently called The Absolute Elsewhere which is a multi-media project with a local photographer (DividingME) that is ethereal for one.  sublime.  complicated.  and for some, probably annoying, cacophanous, and insipid.  as for me, it captures my gaze and i don't want to blink.

they had their official release show out of town (in Carrboro) but did a second show last night at The Blind Tiger ~ promising acrobats, jugglers, hooping, dancers, and mime (there's a bit of a eurogypsy sensibility).  think cirque du soleil by the small town crowd...in a bar...with a highly eclectic fan base.  i can't believe none of my local friends were there.  but i was.  and my lucky significant other escorted me (making us just about even, as i have attended countless ~ for me, truly! ~ bluegrass concerts over the years).

like i said ~ eclectic.  for some,

an opportunity for a mild night of steampunk.

 for others, techno dance with spinning LED lights.

there were two opening musicians.

this is Molly from Cincinnati.

{ LED hooping in between }

 this is Brad from Michigan.

 this is Molly & Brad

together,

which was nice.

Crystal Bright and the Silver Hands

The Absolute Elsewhere

playing the saw while holding an accordion

 

acromime by the incomparable mr. felder

entranced

a stunning ropes routine

by sabrina

the delightful foxy moxy

(if you went to the link up at the top to my other post about crystal bright, i do believe you will see foxy moxy in a couple of photos ~ hindsight being 20/20, who knew?)

 she has many loyal fans

the lunging photographer (also seen here)

 whole lotta fun

maybe you had to be there.

glad i was!