Ritual Object from a Parallel Universe

Lithograph, glass, oak, 12 x 10 x 3"

Yellow Rose Rising (from the journal)

Tufted titmouse on the screen
looking for bugs.
Such big feet. 11-1-11


A beautiful journey
to the tall city,
a long river
to go by. 11-3-11


A golden afternoon
at the village blacksmith’s—
the black lizard whistle. 11-7-11


This maple is bare,
the earnestness of all the years
there to see. 11-9-11


The brown leaves
fall through my eyes
leaving their breath
on my breath. 11-9-11


Summer’s dry weight
moves in the blue sky,
dark golden leaves
not ready to let go. 11-12-11


It will be here when all
the other things are gone—
orange stars over hibiscus’ yellow leaves
hanging down,
one moment, in color,
breathed. 11-13-11


The blue wind sets
the orange stars twisting.
Some will spin free
before they are red. 11-13-11


Crab apple’s buds are set against
a warm gray sky. Wren, too,
her single voice. 11-14-11


Sieboldii’s green is gone.
Rose, dark rose, yellow rose rising. 11-15-11


A gray day
warmed by maple’s last yellow leaves.
The slow scrape of the old plastic rake. 11-20-11


Crab apple buds are set.
Carolina Wren announces winter’s silhouette. 11-21-11


Blue jay climbs crab apple branch
calling out the news—
the sun, the sun, the sun
is on his feet. 11-21-11


By my face, outside my window,
yellow honeysuckle
as yellow as any sun. 11-23-11


‘Tis the season
of leaf blowers,
of leaf mold,
of everything down,
but the blue sky
holding up. 11-21-11


Falling through the empty tees,
gray rain,
the sound. 11-29-11


A cat threads her way
around my teacup,
stream rising in the jade. 11-30-11


The light on my eyes
is as before—
all the years,
the spoken story,
the scintillating reflections remembered
as now, the sweet warmth,
sweet. 11-30-11


How everything is—
the empty baskets,
the old toys,
space,
and the memories of space
folding around us. 12-1-11

The Umbrella

Relief, fired clay with glaze, 14 x 14 x 1"



This relief is a portrait of my daughter.

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.