Thursday, December 29, 2011

year of fog

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

fog: Easthampton, MA to Grand Teton National Park, WY

testing materials: onion skin options, glue options
printing materials: traditional paper, or transparency mylar
folding template
testing the glues wasn't so helpful; secondary attachment (sewing) still required to attach onion skin covers to transparency text
all wrapped up and ready for post
silver stamped covers (onion skin)
(transparency text, accordion book format)
images against white background; when viewed aerially they resemble old film negatives

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

so brief, so fleeting

(quote from Issa, Japanese poet)

The snows began early, far earlier than they had been wont to in recent years. We were caught unprepared, our summer windows and white linen suits no match for the blanket that surrounded and engulfed us. The end of summer, suddenly, desperately, upon us, barbecues canceled and baseball tournaments declared no winners at all. As the days passed, meteorologists made promises of respite, reassured us that the abrupt change in seasons would only be temporary, but we could each feel it, deep in our souls, the entrance of winter.

will flights be delayed: that is the question

an astounding assortment of the avant-garde:
Reader's block / by David Markson
The curfew / Jesse Ball

Thursday, December 15, 2011

carpenter's rule

The map had so many errors and ommissions, lines for routes that were dreamt of but previously untraveled, cities designed by rulers and builders and architects of great vision, but empty of bricks, stones, wells, cottages, railways, and settlers. We would plan our itineraries to arrive at an oasis, to discover the founders surveyed the location, looked to the horizon, took their compasses and rulers and spades elsewhere, although where elsewhere was, we never knew. We never found the promised moments of respite, the communities giving succour to the weary, for while they were implied by the map, they never materialized from intention and destination to reality. Still we clung to our Atlas, patched, faded, and misleading though it was, for there was no other path open before us, no other guiding hand shaping our destiny.

Italo Calvino, Città invisibili

Geminids showers meet sleet storms

Thursday, December 8, 2011

up / away

The leaves were the deepest green of late summer, not yet turned with the shortening of the days, but full of the imminent sense of loss that autumn would bring, the sap beginning to condense deep in the roots, allowing the leaves to suffer their fate, drying in the wind. Now, though, at this very moment of a late afternoon in the precious final hours of August, now the leaves are thick, glossy, an umbrella shielding the sun from the ground below, a curtain hiding those who seek refuge in the branches.
There but for the / Ali Smith

skis! down coat! fuzzy boots! let the sun keep shining as long as it will!

Sunday, December 4, 2011

30 Poems! chapbook

Now available: 30 Poems!, the chapbook, with any and all proceeds going to literacy education, through the work of the Center for New Americans. Lots of pretty pictures and a how-to description after the text.

There was a challenge in the month of November to write a poem-a-day -- which, with certain misgivings, I did. At the end of the month, the resulting [*] poems were formatted for a two-signature pamphlet, and digitally printed onto Bugra paper, with British Kraft paper covers. (My twin obsessions are onion skin and the lovely British Kraft paper. Both are crackly and shiny and splendid to work with.)

The poems were formatted to fit onto 2 sheets of 11"x17" paper, which were printed double sided, folded and sewn. The final size is 5.5" high by 4.25" wide.

Other details: really, send money to the Center for New Americans, or the literacy organization of your choice, and I'll send you a chapbook. Postage, materials and labor donated to the cause. Some exceptions apply[‡].

[*maudlin and sentimental]
[‡ exes are not eligible to participate]