Spring

Rain, rain and more rain soaks us, yet the colors of spring turn the gloom into glory.

“Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows’ wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,

hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees”….Rilke



Pulling Weeds

“What is essential to practice the Tao is to get rid of cravings and vexations. If these afflictions are not removed, it is impossible to attain stability. This is like the case of the fertile field, which cannot produce good crops as long as the weeds are not cleared away.  Cravings and ruminations are the weeds of the mind; if you do not clear them away, concentration and wisdom do not develop.”
–  Chang San-feng, founder of T’ai Chi Ch’uan, circa 1300 A.D.

Low Fire


I find there’s something enormously powerful about flowers if one takes time to look at them closely.

“Tulips shyly smiling, greet the spring
Tightly closed when at 
First we meet
Tulips slowly opening, begin to sing
Gaining volume 
Ever sweet 

No longer shy, as days grow longer, 
Raising their heads 
They begin to flirt
Tulips dressed in many a color
Breezes swirling 
Each floral skirt

Tulips, brazen painted hussies, 
Part their bright lips trying to seduce
The busy buzzing bees
Far too bold for dainty tussies
Vibrant Tulip flowers produce
Visions certain to please “
Mary Havran

“The Two Are One”

I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
‘For beauty,’ I replied.
‘And I for truth, — the two are one;
We brethren are,’ he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names…..Emily Dickinson

Poet For Hire (It was worth it)

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Let’s start with a formal portrait of a young man who calls himself Odz Nens. He has set up his typewriter and chair near Boston’s Frog Pond.

He creates poems for passersby on any subject of their choosing. Currently his entire income comes from this endeavor.

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He studied bioengineering at the University of Illinois campus in Urbana

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He’s a gentle, pensive guy. He told me many cities have street poets. Boston has a few. New Orleans has the most.

I asked him for a poem about street photography.

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Here It Is:

Roving Eye

Eye wants

what eye wants. I’d like to say the story’s on the street,

                                                                       though I’ve turned down

                                                                        many a blind alley.

Industry anoints the street with oil.

Glancing light

anoints the street with

                                                                         a halo unseen.

When the puddles froze over

                                                                         in New Orleans

passersby took pictures

                                                                         as if they were the moon.

 

 

Flower Form

R0330210-Editsmall“The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate Of minted Holiness”

Emily Dickinson

 


 

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