Sunday, April 26, 2015


Message painted on a facing building
Along the way several poets type originals on computers
which are projected on walls. 
Here's one in process...
The Empire State Building with Gibbon Moon
Hudson River off in the Distance
The Tiny Typewriter
Tiny Tyopewriter Poet Scene

Under Grand Central's tattered vault
--maybe half a dozen electric stars still lit--
one saxophone blew, and a sheer black scrim

billowed over some minor constellation
under repair. Then, on Broadway, red wings
in a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macaws

preening, beaks opening and closing
like those animated knives that unfold all night
in jewelers' windows. For sale,

glass eyes turned outward toward the rain,
the birds lined up like the endless flowers
and cheap gems, the makeshift tables

of secondhand magazines
and shoes the hawkers eye
while they shelter in the doorways of banks.

So many pockets and paper cups
and hands reeled over the weight
of that glittered pavement, and at 103rd

a woman reached to me across the wet roof
of a stranger's car and said, I'm Carlotta,
I'm hungry. She was only asking for change,

so I don't know why I took her hand.
The rooftops were glowing above us,
enormous, crystalline, a second city

lit from within. That night
a man on the downtown local stood up
and said, My name is Ezekiel,

I am a poet, and my poem this evening is called
fall. He stood up straight
to recite, a child reminded of his posture

by the gravity of his text, his hands
hidden in the pockets of his coat.
Love is protected, he said,

the way leaves are packed in snow,
the rubies of fall. God is protecting
the jewel of love for us.

He didn't ask for anything, but I gave him
all the change left in my pocket,
and the man beside me, impulsive, moved,

gave Ezekiel his watch.
It wasn't an expensive watch,
I don't even know if it worked,

but the poet started, then walked away
as if so much good fortune
must be hurried away from,

before anyone realizes it's a mistake.
Carlotta, her stocking cap glazed
like feathers in the rain,

under the radiant towers, the floodlit ramparts,
must have wondered at my impulse to touch her,
which was like touching myself,

the way your own hand feels when you hold it
because you want to feel contained.
She said, You get home safe now, you hear?

In the same way Ezekiel turned back
to the benevolent stranger.
I will write a poem for you tomorrow,

he said. The poem I will write will go like this:
Our ancestors are replenishing
the jewel of love for us.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015


Earth Day
Delicate Returns

Tender Beginnings
Zen Thoughts
I entrust myself to earth
Earth entrusts herself to me
I entrust myself to Buddha
Buddha entrusts herself to me
The photo is the loop at the bottom of the wood block that is hit by a wooden mallet in a series to call us into the zendo to sit zazen at ny zen center for compassionate care and NOT necessarily negative. Like the Tibetan Book of the Dead, it is to remember death
in order not to waste life.

The best time to catch the shower is between about 11 pm on April 22nd and sunrise on April 23rd, in any timezone  in the northern hemisphere.

Sunday, April 19, 2015


"There's nothing like eavesdropping to show you that the world outside your head is different from the world inside your head."
-Thornton Wilder-

Finding a moments comfort
(discarded couch near a bus stop)
 Making a bed for the night
 Home for a while to man and his dog
 Pushing toward a safe haven
Too tired to go on
All over this city homeless human beings
 struggle, on the move till near nightfall, then searching for a safe place,
a space to rest.
"According to city records, the number of residents living without stable shelter reached an all-time high of 59,068 in mid-December, the New York Daily News reported. The figure marks an uptick from more than 56,000, which was reported by WNYC last October, and a 10 percent increase since Mayor Bill de Blasio’s Inauguration Day about one year ago."


Saturday, April 18, 2015


April 12th
Nemo read some of his poems about home and family,
as well as selections from "When Men Bow Down"
The church is right next door to their home and
most members have known them all their lives
It was a lovely reading.
Afterwards we had a picnic/barbecue
with Jude Hill, Jude's son Kursten and his paramour Anna.
Nemo and Julio searing salmon
There was wine, a fabulous Mac and cheese,
and this deliciously colorful salad.
The Day was warm and sweet.
I left my shadow
Bid Buddha farewell
Rode the train back to Manhattan
cheered and sated

Thursday, April 16, 2015


Subway Exit
Childrens Playground
Fifth Avenue at 84th Street

The Metropolitan Museum of Art
InsideThe Rotunda

Madonna  and Child
Near the Main Staircase

We Meet Again
Fifty Four Years after High School
Blair Boudreaux, a very fine artist, and me
 Blair's friend Michael

 A little more Looking
Oedipus and the Sphinx
Gustave Moreau
(French, Paris 1826–1898 Paris)
Date: 1864
Medium: Oil on canvas

The Hand of God
by Auguste Rodin
(French, Paris 1840–1917 Meudon)
Date: modeled ca. 1896–1902, commissioned 1906, carved ca. 1907
Medium: Marble

 Fatal Attractions
Selections from the  Permanent Collection
Curated by Piotr Uklanski
Two Examples and A Link
 "This striking fragment is from a statue composed of different materials. The back of the piece shows remains of the mortise that fitted onto a tenon extending from the statue's body which may have been made of Egyptian alabaster to represent a white garment.  The royal woman represented here cannot be identified with certainty. It is difficult to imagine that the already aged Queen Tiye—the mother of Akhenaten and highly respected as a wise woman at Amarna—was shown as a beauty of such sensuous character. Queens Nefertiti and Kiya, however, are both possible subjects."
Skull Hook (Agiba)

19th–early 20th century

 Papua New Guinea, Papuan Gulf, Pai'ia'a village, Omati River, Kikori Delta
Kerewa people
Wood, paint
 H. 55 7/8 x W. 29 1/2 x D. 5 in.
Large "agiba" or "skull hooks" were used to display trophy skulls within the men's ceremonial houses of the Kerewa people of the Papuan Gulf region, on the south coast of New Guinea. Agiba depict important ancestors, often the mythical founders of village clans. Each clan owned one or two agiba which were kept in the clan's allotted space within the ceremonial house. The skulls of slain enemies were hung from the agiba with loops of rattan. As time passed, a platform was often constructed in front of the agiba to support the weight of the growing pile of skulls. Together with its skulls, the agiba was both a shrine and a source of supernatural power. The displays of trophy skulls were also status symbols, which marked the clan's prowess in warfare and headhunting.

Heading for the Exit