Burning Through Dreams Curved around my dreaming I dive deeper. Your image morphs into a candle flame wavering before me. Streets curve and reform under strange skies. Oceans surge and tower, falling. Lifted by the night’s tsunami, I awake with dreams lying tangled in my hair, the taste of the moon in my mouth. Your memory lies flashing like animal eyes in the dark.
I was so delighted to get a call from my dear friend Fl!p saying that she needed a tiny website, like yesterday. Tiny is easy. Working with Fl!p and her sweetie Zeke is easy. So here’s the result—a bare bones musician’s website that still manages to have videos, Bandcamp song links, a blog, and some other small bells and whistles. Thanks, y’all, this was fun! You can see the website, here.
Rest in peace—W.S. Merwin, the American poet, environmental activist, and two-time Pulitzer Prize recipient, died Friday March 15 at his home in Haiku, Hawaii, on the island of Maui. He was 91. Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveler Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of one woman And the shamelessness of men As today writing after three days of rain Hearing the wren sing and the falling…
I attended the memorial for my friend, the musician Linda Waterfall, today. This is the poem I wrote for it…and her.
More polite rejections. More self-doubt. On the other hand, I’ve submitted to seven new journals and put x-amount of submissions on my calendar so that regardless of the blues I keep kicking things out the door. #stubborn #counterphobic
“While the authority of the doctor or plumber is never questioned, everyone deems [themselves] a good judge and an adequate arbiter of what a work of art should be and how it should be done.” Rothko died on this day in 1970. Rest in peace, Mark.