from The Constraints of Architecture
2 June 2004
Vol. 4, No. 2
poetry
Can't see the field for the easel. Sometimes the easel
Is a mirror and you're fixing your hair. Sometimes this eddy
Of air carries the canvas into the woods, the tongue of a bear
In your pocket. Chasing it, you stop and think…
from The Constraints of Architecture
2 June 2004
Vol. 4, No. 2
poetry
A longing lives inside the mind: both to be in the past
Where we weren't, but also to be the person
We are in the present living in that unrealized past. The moon
Is a paint bucket on its side. The moon is…
