Posts

Showing posts from October, 2006
Image

By name

Image
You don't have to say God if you don't want. Say higher power or Being or Spirit or Light. I say God because it's the name I grew up with. It's how I know I'm home As I stand on the top of this mountain In light that is the gold of the streets of heaven Under a sky that is a sapphire jewel Amid leaves that burn like rubies and topaz With this warm apple in my hand, With my daughter beside me Telling me to look, look at this apple, How big it is and so red it's purple. I say thank you, God; thank you creator of the universe. There isn't any other place to be But God's country. I say the name and know I'm home.

Colors

Image
Irish poet Cathal O Searcaigh reads his poem "Colors" in the Strange Attractions graffiti trailer. Please give this about 30 seconds to load.

Strange Attractions: a Community of Chaos

Click here for more on Strange Attractions.

Crossroads

Image
At the crossroads I watch a turtle Crane her neck in three directions: The swamp, the stream, the marsh. Cars pass, and though there is a stop sign Few stop; fewer notice that I Am crossing guard To a box turtle. I wait. I watch. Nobody stops. I lift the turtle and place her Near the stream, Sure I have done the wrong thing. Sure, in fact, that I have interfered With the unfolding of natural history In this place. I am a cataclysm in the life of this Turtle who feels the cool Of my shadow and will not come out. No, indeed. She will not assure me that I done good: I have kept her alive for a few minutes longer Than she might have been at the end of the long century. Good for me. I feel like a fool. What have I done? For a few minutes at the end of a long century, I can't help thinking, I might have braved it and followed her across the road.

Crossroads

Image
At the crossroads I watch a turtle Crane her neck in three directions: The swamp, the stream, the marsh. Cars pass, and though there is a stop sign Few stop; fewer notice that I Am crossing guard To a box turtle. I wait. I watch. Nobody stops. I lift the turtle and place her Near the stream, Sure I have done the wrong thing. Sure, in fact, that I have interfered With the unfolding of natural history In this place. I am a cataclysm in the life of this Turtle who feels the cool Of my shadow and will not come out. No, indeed. She will not assure me that I done good: I have kept her alive for a few minutes longer Than she might have been at the end of the long century. Good for me. I feel like a fool. What have I done? For a few minutes at the end of a long century, I can't help thinking, I might have braved it and followed her across the road.

Wink

Image
Click here to view the Strange Attraction graffiti videos (updated Sept. 23).