photorealism by richard estes

start with error

& work outward to

a grid stretching the painting

to a scene that exists 

both in the mind & a picture

then when confounded

expand & remember even more

ecstasy & frustration 

until it is done

of glass & mirrors & water

reflecting surfaces

a scene whether it be city

or forest or sea

now look

absolute motion in a freeze 

happy labor day!

in honor of Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, & the overall tomfoolery of early 21st C life, let us take a moment to remember all the blood, terror, & tears suffered by our brothers & sisters over a century ago in the labor movement.  we still got a long way to go.  so here's a song sung by harry mcclintock with lyrics written by that old wobbly joe hill.  'you will eat pie in the sky when you die.'

bear witness

i was a lad of 13 my dad & i used to go deer hunting.  i had my winchester 30-30 that i rarely fired & my dad had his bolt-action browning 30-06.  now my old man was a good hunter.  patient, steady & calm.  unlike his usual workaday self.  i've seen him take & make incredible shots.  like shooting a running buck in nevada at around 20 yards.  that magnificent beast hit the ground running & was still deep breathing when we got on to him.  my old man took careful aim and fired into the buck's neck as i watched the wild eyes of this grand animal spin wide until they glazed over.  this afternoon we sat on a fallen log at the end of a deer trail.  behind us was the forest with a slope of around 30 degrees that dropped off into even more thick foretst.  i was a bored 13 year old.  i didn't like hunting.  i hated my rifle.  it was too loud.  too powerful.  too deadly.  but on this occasion we got our bear tags.  these tags were regulated & administered by the state of california allowed us both to kill one adult male bear each.  why we got those tags i can't say.  we had never seen a bear.  until now.  daydreaming i sat on the log until my dad whispered in my ear, 'bear!'  i swiveled off the log & looked behind me.   15 feet away was a male black bear on his hind legs.  my dad had his browning in position.  the bear stopped sniffed the air & froze in mid-step.  i forgot i had a rifle.  he was beautiful.  magnificent creature that stood on his hind leg i shit you not.  he looked 20 ft tall.  the bear sized up the scene & immediately turned down the 30-degree incline & vanished from our sights.  my hands shook when they found my rifle & i could hardly hold it.  my father was already placing his rifle at rest.  'why didn't you shoot it,' i asked.  i don't remember my dad's answer.  all i remember was that this beautiful animal an adult male black bear was a mere 15 feet away.

a touch of fall haiku

revved up like a rocket

anna's hummingbird blurs out of frame

pistil to pistil 

bloom against bloom

in what language do i give my praise

my gratitude in witness

the hard light of the workday

bows out to cooler evening

& i am a pitiable poet

who lacks the courage to say

anna's hummingbird 

speeds out of focus & is my judge

in memorium koon woon

the other side of summer

 

pay no heed to the poor poet as he does his nightly walks thru his beloved city.  he's a failed flaneur.  a damaged poet who thinks his imagination can power a rocket engine.  take no pity as he looks toward the backside of summer.  the flat calm bright iridescences of a late evening sky & the stilled pool waters vacant of swimmers.  this doesn't stop him.  the failed poet is off on one more fancy.  watch him go! 

be seen green haiku

 

                                    when one plays with water 

                                    come upon my shore

                                    water is fine

                                    it is good to be wet

                                    a shower

                                    is all the wisdom i need

be like water