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[Mar. 9th, 2008|02:03 pm] |
The above selections from Portrait of the Years are for sale! (with the exception of the ocean picture)
If you'd like to get a look at these up close, simply scroll though this journal to find your desired photograph & poem. Each physical work is 8 & 1/2'' x 11''. The gallery price was $80.00, but I'm willing to do a trade.
If interested, please comment with an email address. |
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| portrait of the years in the flesh! |
[Oct. 27th, 2007|07:15 pm] |
Dear friends,
Five of these photographs and poems will be appearing in a physical medium as a part of The Blogger Show, a joint project of The Digging Pitt (PGH), The Digging Pitt Too (NYC), Agni Gallery (NYC), and Panza Gallery (PGH).
My work will be at the Panza Gallery in Millvale, PA between November 10 and January 12th.
December 15th is the public reception!
Here's a link to more information on The Blogger Show. |
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[Aug. 8th, 2007|11:23 pm] |
12/31/2004
all the time's eyes shut like this:
five days shaken dry.
i never liked december, the jealous twinge
at colored lights in other homes,
the promise at the end of
a new year. today,
my father gave me a camera.
i hold it like a frame.
i have this feeling everything will change |
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[Jul. 11th, 2007|12:11 am] |
8/29/06
An August morning,
in all ways. I hold
the lens in my eyes
with a sureness
it is morning; I am alone, and all
morning I will drink coffee
half-naked answering
myself, answering
augustly, honored. |
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[Apr. 29th, 2007|12:56 am] |
3/2/05
as a child i was taken
with a painting of ophelia
drowning. a matter of habit
now, long nights underwater,
offering confession to the bare
bulb overhead, the traffic streaming
down boylston street in tears
from the march sky
from some polluted idea of god. |
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[Feb. 16th, 2007|05:56 pm] |
5/7/05
(slow glaze upon the edge's shutter)
some days grief feels like patience,
the looking in to what's empty
out of habit. metalheart,
metalheart, metalheart.
sing it again days before
all these may
birthdays cause
sore celebration |
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[Feb. 4th, 2007|12:15 pm] |
11/17/06
now ends
an era
of solitude's
movements, matched
by november
traffic lights:
now stop,
now, wait.
now go. |
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[Jan. 2nd, 2007|12:42 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | (happyeverpossiblenewyear) | ] |
2/18/05
abruptly february becomes
a month of only mornings
beginning inhalation of blue,
exhalation of white, inhalation
rattling, exhalation amber. yes,
the light from my body was amber.
yes, it was not what i believed
but what i came into being;
softly thawing around the edges... |
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[Dec. 14th, 2006|11:48 am] |
3/13/05
march, frenzied being; many forms flail,
fail: the end of the tale comes, matter
being meaningful too much to end, so
much in truth it becomes (the cycle into
despair/ disarray/decision, and back again:
pendulum: cumulous silence, collected
rainwater, ticketstubs, birthday cards:)
saying what i mean is just that it's so
much too much and o god, i wanted the moon to swallow me. |
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[Dec. 10th, 2006|06:15 pm] |
12/9/06
december takes marks dearly made
with a grain of salt and wounds; have we spoken
light upon this cage? how we hold
pain is differently, mother.
i am not yet finished with its sight.
necessity, mother; microscopic
stiches like commas were fluttering,
fracture implicit in the whole - reaching
a kind of beauty that was not simple, did not turn away. |
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[Dec. 2nd, 2006|08:20 pm] |
3/5/06
if you take what you know
minus the season it happened
to alight. if you take on numbers
symbolically: sheep, mistakes, sobriety.
the blue chip means ninety; the time
is light, familiar, meaning. march is
a march like all other marches. why is
this ___ different from all other ____?
take symmetry, for example. |
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[Nov. 30th, 2006|01:59 am] |
5/19/05
your dark runs doe-swift and undoes the day.
i am an archer with a limping heart again,
taking aim. your dark's a folk song, its bones
a gray powder, its skin easy to slip.
i wear my mother's dress and shame,
tie bowstrings with apology. history
speaks low and lies a wind against my arrow.
by may i lie
exhausted with an empty quiver. |
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[Nov. 18th, 2006|01:04 am] |
9/13/05
it was impractical to buy the shoes
and i knew this; two methods of regret,
each step a little pain, little pleasures
fanning slow inside muscular arches.
i ache for a lark; i bite my own bark
despite buffers of curses at construction
men who whistle at my folly. female:
september: insidious slow rotting.
i let my heels bleed through the indifferent city. |
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[Nov. 15th, 2006|05:17 am] |
11/23/05
only what holds
true; the reflection holding
what appears to be a stillness
in same the way november was still
a month for reckoning.
the past beckons
a careful watch of the present,
the mirror; the present
flashing by... |
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[Nov. 8th, 2006|09:27 pm] |
11/1/05
and yes i have known angels;
the restless, sleeping, november
colors of them strewn over gravel
edges of knapsacked highways
in upstate new york; what's unmentioned
goes a long way, weight carried
to wake exhausted. i go on walking
through the world in a gauze tilt,
wings beating memory into me. |
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[Nov. 5th, 2006|10:42 pm] |
3/21/05
spent with mirrors, i begin
a revision of my life. i free exhausted
doves, extract dimmed scarves
from the wound of the swallowed sword.
in late march only the smoke remains,
still pouring from smoldering embers
where flame first brought prayers.
tell me again about the story of water,
how it learned to create the earth. |
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[Nov. 2nd, 2006|07:53 pm] |
5/2/06
not
without ritual.
rent from sleep
by naked may light
i touch my pulse to
frame; i hear a new tide
sweep troughs of sound: rotating patterns emerge.
i did watch the city for four hundred
some days, then learned its movements by my breath. |
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[Oct. 31st, 2006|09:04 pm] |
6/5/05
home in june; the peeling
scent of old smoke in lace.
my childhood is an onion,
and when i sleep, the layers
come apart to sting. home, walls
stuck with memory,
beside the broken storm
window. i was juliet for years -
my bed, the balcony, the poison. |
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[Oct. 24th, 2006|06:37 am] |
5/10/05
body struck lightly in comparision -
metal to flesh to pavement was almost
nothing, knees bloodied, but the brain's
shudder caught nerve ends, old rush
reminiscent of near death cloaked
may's meandering buzz. i wanted bone
shards. i gambled with vertigo. i spent
in vain and forgot love.
i just wanted to break and break and break. |
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[Oct. 20th, 2006|05:29 pm] |
7/8/05
i wake in the unfamiliar living
room with a shadow in my arms.
it shivers, a leaf before rain.
my god is inhuman, harder
than atoms to break into.
july is a hang-nail dream, the twist
in the story where time departs.
the black dog barks from the corner
of my eyes in the space between tick & tock. |
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