The Road Home is Always a River

Lithograph on gampi, 15 x 10"

The Territory We Share (from the journal)

What would be the one thing?
Beyond sitting?
Beyond waiting?
The air moves.
The trees touch back, wave hello, goodbye. 10-1-11


Withdrawing to the cathedral,
hickory leaves are orange,
honeysuckle berries are red,
maple gives parts of its leaves to wine.
All is measured in movement.
Can air move the light?
It does. 10-2-11


The territory we share—
the light, the leaves,
little spaces for breath,
for poems, for stretching the wings,
feathered and not. 10-2-11


Resting in the holly
a pair of migrating finches
draws in the sun,
a special kind of breath. 10-5-11


Not so bad
waiting with catbird
for the day to warm.
The robin shows himself,
red with life. 10-8-11


The first one,
the first yellow tree—
spicebush startles. 10-10-11


Little cricket with one antenna
what draws you to the tip of my pen?
Is it the flowing?
Or is it the memory of flowing shining like a river
having been brought forth or having been brought down
the shining river, the memory you can touch? 10-10-11


Pierced with summer’s long days,
sharon’s brown leaf lies transparent
on the rose flagstone. 10-12-11


A burst of rain.
Chipmunk keeps to his path
over the poet’s slipper. 10-13-11


In the shadowed wood,
the deeper shadows of two deer
stepping through. 10-15-11


Holding on
all the crab apple leaves
shiver in the wind. 10-15-11


Bladdernut leaves fade to pale cream—
a shower of light
in the dark morning. 10-16-11


How tall the oak tree is
with the sun
suddenly behind it. 10-17-11


The long sunny afternoon.
The young robin and I
regard each other. Sitting.
Breathing. 10-18-11


The world smells
of life easing away.
The soft rain comes again. 10-18-11


At this moment
all the squirrels run up the oaks.
Fox?
No. The Siamese. 10-23-11


Crab apple leaves didn’t change this year.
The sky took them away
without a turn. 10-24-11


The sky is grayer
than the trees are yellow.
The thin cloud moves in between. 10-27-11


In the dark,
in the rain,
hickory’s gold is gold,
enough for all. 10-29-11

Refugio

Lithograph, 16 x 20"



This print is from the series, "Thoughtprints and Footprints: California"

The Eye of the Iridescent Fly

Lithograph on gampi, 8 x 6"


The words,
My words,
are only the symbols,
tiny reflections of you
in the eye of the
iridescent fly.

The symbols,
My symbols
are the tools of my trade
to speak with the voice
of the many-tongued hydra;

And when these symbols
come off my eyes and
tongues,

Smile. It is not you
that you are seeing.

You, who have come
across the dust

with me--

A universe of beauty.

Smile.


Poem and lithograph from POPPYROSE.

Raphael Soyer

Bronze relief, 9 x 9 x 1"

Raphael Soyer spent some time in 1983 as an artist-in-residence at the University of California, Santa Barbara. I met him when he came to visit Steven Cortright's lithography class. I showed him a portfolio of my prints and some photographs of my sculptures. We corresponded for a while before he died. The portrait was done using techniques of both Egyptian or hollow relief and bas relief.

Waiting with Vernon

Bronze relief, 20 x 12"

Something the Air Touched

White-line relief, 7 x 5 1/2"



Something the air touched
made it soft, soft enough
to move the turning sassafras.

The Rain Made a Galaxy (from the journal)

From the poke to the honeysuckle,
Carolina wren warns the others—
the poet has taken up her pen. 9-5-11



In the light
catbird speaks,
makes it all real. 9-13-11



I might be a flower.
The color is right.
Hummingbird holds me in her eye. 9-17-11



In this place
where we are in thought,
sometimes I start a poem
and then someone finishes it. 9-17-11



The rain made a galaxy
out of funnel spider’s
widening web. 9-24-11



The sound that comes
from mourning dove—
that sound—
folds back time,
opens space. 9-27-11



From the east—
moving air and more—
change. 9-29-11

Poppyrose (the frontispiece)

Lithograph on gampi, 8 x 6"



My recollection is that these were plants I brought to Reston when we moved here from California. The prints for POPPYROSE were printed on my handmade sheets of gampi. I learned Japanese papermaking from Sukey Hughes at an extension course through UCSB. The gampi fibers were soaked, cooked, cleaned, and beaten with a wooden mallet. When I teach kids to make Japanese papers, I always tell them the most important thing is to listen. Do they listen? The one moment of listening is usually followed by many giggles.

Walrus

Relief, fired clay with glazes, 15 x 20 x 1"