It is 4 in the morning.
You blink.
Now it is not any more. It is 4:12 or 4:14 or 4:16.
The present is always rolling away
like wind in the trees
like tears
like breath
like life.
Note The photograph was taken at night, while anchored off of Nanaimo, BC.
What if we thought of poetry as something visible everywhere? Much of what we call poetry IS blogging, a lyric voice meandering through the sounds and images and movements of the world, trying on sensations and seeking interlocutors. Visible Poetry: Aesthetic Acts in Progress aims at expanding some horizons of this oldest of forms.
To Alaska and Back I: Getting underway
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It was wonderful to be back in the "land of the big trees;" each evening,
after our chores, we walked around the docks or wandered the neighbourhood.
One n...
Lexicon -- An Exhibition of Weavings by Bhakti Ziek
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I have a new exhibition up at BigTown Gallery in Rochester, VT from October
26 - November 26, 2016. It is called *Lexicon* and includes new weavings as
wel...
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