Hands from the past reaching out to us: Ocher red, white, dark, brown, Five-fingered, four-fingered, three-fingered, Hand stencils sprayed on the wall, Ocher mixed with spit, mixed with blood, Blown through hollow bones; Art as a plea for us to remember Ourselves when we did not have faces. Our words now are like hand stencils … Continue reading Hands From the Past
Happy the man*, whose wish and care A house or an apartment bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own town. Whose routine job, whose local stores Supply his food and his attire, Whose books in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcerned’dly find Hours, days, and years slide … Continue reading Ode On Solitude (Modern Edition)
When I walk through the russet park On a carpet of dying leafs And come upon a deserted bench Sprinkled with dew drops and rotting at the edges, That’s when I think of you. * When it’s raining on the streets And raindrops die upon the pavement And I splash through muddy pools alongside strangers, … Continue reading You In My Thoughts
boy with a hat 