March 21: Working with What Is

This morning’s sky is a blank slate,

or more like a grayish gouache,

over which we may layer paint

in colors of our choosing, creating

our own version of the day, dull

or brilliant, plain or ornate, abstract

or figurative, working with what is.

Popular posts from this blog

January 1: I Shall Write Each Day

As long as mind and body allow, I shall write each day. As much as we attempt to put time into a box or straighten it into a line, the circle keeps going round, propelling the spiral of my life ever outward until the final revolution, which, even then, may not be the end. Unless and until gyrations cease, I shall write each day. And maybe every now and then something beautiful may emerge, something healing, something that sings and shouts and cries.
Read more

January 30: Awfully Cold

The minus sign in front of today’s temperature in degrees Fahrenheit seems like a judgement as much as a measure, as if the thermometer were saying that it’s so awfully cold, we can’t place it on the acceptable range of measures, can’t imagine how it relates to anything like normality. But the weather, uncaring, goes on, utterly heedless of our ability to cope with it.
Read more

January 27: Subzero

After the storm brought a foot of snow, frigid temperatures have set in—not just freezing but subzero weather that seeps through cracks and creeps in through gaps around windows and doors and changes how we live, how we move and breathe. I marvel at how something that is so far beneath our usual standards of measure— something that is less than nothing at all— can have such a profound effect on us.
Read more