Goosebumps on a frog
amphibious grinning bliss
perhaps you too have memory
of one immortal kiss.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,
and to sculptor Pokie Park for her work titled
“I’ve Been Kissed.”
Tag Archives: sculpture
June 16.19: Postcards from Emmy
Eyes up
or dead ahead
full-faced
uncorseted
youthful
oaken vertebrae
steel-enforced
DNA.
Downcast eyes
will not attend
the future that
these two portend.
Fearless Girl times two
foreseeing
each steadfast
in her own being.
To all the dads who have given the world Fearless Girls, a very happy Fathers’ Day!
With thanks to the unnamed photographer,
to sculptor Kristen Visbal,
and, of course, to Emmy.
Connections: January 28.18
Until snow falls
I cannot see
space’s eminent
sculptability.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: January 11.18
It’s a world of mud
outside my door
sodden, spongey
barren bore.
It’s a sky of mud
dark and flat
spitting drip
and dribble and splat.
No light, no color
etc., et al.
so I turn my eyes
to Southern Cal.
Lifting me
to brilliant blue
this silver bonfire
makes me new.
Or is it wave
or maybe wing?
It doesn’t matter;
the sun’s the thing.
In such an image
the light’s outreach
touches me
in winter’s breach.
This bleak faux spring
is quite escapable
as long as I am
daydream-capable.
Many thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives and the curator thereof for this wonderfully warming photo.
Connections: July 23.17
Austere and pallid
graceful hew
stilled and flowing
pas de deux.
Many more thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives
to sculptor Helaine Blumenfeld
and to the Newport News (VA) Public Art Foundation.
Connections: July 12.17
The aging gardener
captured here
tells the story
loud and clear:
sunburn, sweat
arthritic knee
callous, puncture
sting of bee
ideas spawned
by maniac
with creaking
sacroiliac
swollen knuckle
blackened nail
back and shoulder
growing frail
in love of plants
all too transparent
oft perceived
as blithe aberrant
and yet withal
a kind of glow
why is that?
who can know?
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: May 7.17
A swoosh can be heard as a sigh
and sometimes you can feel it go by
but here is a swoosh
of swoop and ruche
perspicuous to the eye.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: March 11.17
This is the writer me
in aspect toothachy
I feel all hewn and flat
where are my muses at?
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: February 19.17
How do they, frozen,
silently speak
the language of contentment?
in weathered rosy cheek?
in simple glass of ale?
in button and in vest?
what makes us smile back
at their pantomimed behest?
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
And accolades to artist Bäbel Kölberg, whose studio, Kunst aus Beton,
is in Meerbusch, Germany, across the Rhine
from this Dusseldorf brewery. (No wonder they smile!)
Connections: January 17.17
The gardener in winter,
pensive and morose,
imagining what isn’t,
semi-comatose,
captive to the daydreams
of what might be planted where,
sighing to transform
the empty and the bare.
Thanks more to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
