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Sep 27, 2013 / 2 notes

The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Apr 23, 2013 / 11 notes

current favorite aesthetics: images from Mike Brodie, a young photographer who traveled 50,000 miles on trains across America + captured train culture. 

Lord, not you,
it is I who am absent.
At first
belief was a joy I kept in secret,
stealing alone
into sacred places:
a quick glance, and away-and back,
circling.
I have long since uttered your name
but now
I elude your presence.
I stop
to think about you, and my mind
at once
like a minnow darts away,
darts
into the shadows, into gleams that fret
unceasing over
the river’s purling and passing.
not for one second
will my self hold still, but wanders
anywhere,
everywhere it can turn. Not you,
it is I am absent.
You are the stream, the fish, the light,
the pulsing shadow,
you the unchanging presence, in whom all
moves and changes.
how can I focus my flickering, perceive
at the fountain’s heart
the sapphire I know is there?
"Flickering Mind," Denise Levertov
Apr 3, 2013 / 2 notes
Jan 13, 2013 / 5 notes

A project my dad and I have been working on for over a week—finally complete:

An old book turned into an electric guitar. 

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadly growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.
"Eagle Poem" by Joy Harjo
Aug 3, 2012 / 2 notes
May 16, 2012 / 6 notes

before and after of a recent creation: throwing darts at balloons filled with paint.

Feb 22, 2012 / 8 notes

Kurt Vonnegut’s eight rules for writing a short story:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

(from Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction)

A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real.
Yann Martel, Beatrice and Virgil
Jun 9, 2011 / 5 notes
So I read this book by Salman Rushdie. And this is the product.
Haroun and the Sea of Stories, mixed media.
Jun 1, 2011 / 11 notes

So I read this book by Salman Rushdie. And this is the product.

Haroun and the Sea of Stories, mixed media.