Photo by T. Ratte'
July 5, 2025

        Happy Fireworks day.  I missed them tonight and finally got my reading for tomorrow organized and ready.  

photo by Nina Gross

Today's show was really sweet.  It is really going to be a good project.  If you are interested in knowing more about it go to localaccess.org and click on Words on Art on Words.  The first installment was shown today and the artists who are responding with pieces in the next couple of weeks all came today to get inspired by the work.  I'm just so blown away by how much people are digging it and getting involved.  Two more people signed up today.
I did not get any photos at it, but Nina took a few.  Unfortunately, I can't access any others to share.


Here's a poem I wrote a couple months ago that illustrates what I talked about last night.   

EJ’s Mouth

 

EJ has a perfect mouth

No specific shape, just perfect

 

I used to stare at that

mouth when they were 3

 

breathe in and out.

Holding enormous wisdom, creativity,

Questioning curiosity,

Working hard at sleep

 

I knew they held too much

Eager to know everything

Find all the possibilities

in their burgeoning world.

 

That mouth held in peace

through a night's sleep.

That gentle shape on

that knowing young face. 

And those eyes were still

Fingers calm

 

Preparing to gather more,

Tomorrow

resting, making room

for yet another brilliant day. 



Clara and I got protein together after the show and Patrick joined us.  He's here for the summer.   Tomorrow is another big day.  I was dreading it until about a half hour ago when I finished organizing it.  Now I feel really good about it and especially about reading with Skyler.








 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  January 3, 2025 The Complexity (what I refer to as the texture) of Life This is a photo of Michael Whiton, eldest child of Jean O. Whiton.  If you knew our mother, you know whose eyes he inherited.  Picture was taken by Linda Boardman.        I did not take pictures today, nor was my brain very able.  So tonight you get a poem I wrote 25 years ago that is more spirited than I could write tonight. I Believe in Color   I believe in red the changing forever-ness of red.  A pure rich red: cotton tee shirt red, berries on the bushes in the dead of  New England winters, cherries in June next to a slab of ripe brie. Magenta, a little redder than wine, blood as it begins to dry, the curtains I always wanted, floor length heavy velvet. Orange red on the skins of a tangelo; blood oranges in a light blue porcelain bowl on a small table near stark white walls. Dusty rose of an old flannel duvet, the height of fashion in 1980. I believe i...
Read more
Image
January  4, 2025 Michael E. Whiton  June 30, 1944 - January 4, 2025     I always talk about patterns, it is my researcher's brain.  This morning I texted with my niece, Grace, and asked her what her 12 year old was really into. She told me math.  He plays the flute in his school band.  I had an epiphany when the 2 things got put together.  To grow up with music as a constant all through your childhood you are exposed to patterns.  You become aware of what can follow what.  My 3 year old great niece makes up little songs, repetitive musical patterns.  Her father repeats them or adds to them.  She already knows how to put notes together.  That's math.  That's what Liam does.        So what does all that have to do with Michael's leaving us on this plain today.  Well, one pattern is that we all seem to be good with babies.   When Mike was 21, Jason was born.  He was good to babies....
Read more
Image
  January 2, 2025 Time is both too soon and too late.   Just keeps slipping.     I believe it was 1996 or 7 when I flew out to Bainbridge Island to see my brother, Mike.  He was very ill and my Mom was worried and wanted me to go assess the situation, which I did, probably in not such a diplomatic way.  He really was ill.  His liver was failing and he wasn't getting put on the transplant list, yet.  I've never quite understand the whys and the wherefores of all that.  But for the next 4 or so years he maintained, so sick, sometimes optimistic, sometimes beaten, but he made it to a liver transplant in August 2000 in Worchester.       24 years ago, holy shit.  EJ's entire life, a third of mine; and again he kept living, kept listening to music and trying to be kind and never regaining any reliable health.   His story is fascinating, and I'll tell it sometime, but not tonight.  Tonight I just want to ...
Read more