WHAT I PLAYED WITH WHILE AWAY

 Imaginary Landscape

Piece of wood from the shed with Sharpie marks,

and colored beach glass glued on

 

Soaked in water from black rice

Embellished with more marker

 

and left for Hill house with notes on the back

 

Many Buddhas

(in a forest on a lake)

Wood chip used for dying fabric

Sharpie marks, rubbed for color

 More embellishments

 Final version

Turn-mountains appear

On the other side of the chip this eye

 With a later addition of red

Photographed on location

 Photographed at home

More Buddhas

Bits of beach glass from the shed and found tree bark

 Two single Buddhas

inscribed with Sharpie marker for lack of etching tool

 The notion of adding color to one

 Soaked overnight in water

the color seems to hold but will fade when rubbed

 

 Construction with Elmer's Glue

 Wedged into the bark

 Second layer of bark

 Gift to Julian

Three Buddhas

 

 Color

Local jeweler is Laser-drilling a hole

This one will be a wearable pendant

~*~

ONE MORE THING

BIRDHOUSE

If you squint, you might see the pigeon

who landed on the windowsill to the right outside.

If you can't see it, you can know it's there,

and that it's an old friend of mine.

.

The Individuals

 

Famous

by 

Naomi Shihab Nye

 
The river is famous to the fish.

 
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

 
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

 
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

 
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

 
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

 
The bent photograph is famous
to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

 
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

 
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole,
not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.

Never forget.

Post Script
"Poetry Everywhere"

(Thanks to Nancy E.)