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Synesthesia

Regretful in the downfall of snow flurries, Unable to see their frozen symmetries — but — When a lacy floret mass glazes my tongue I taste unseen geometries.

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Thoreau’s Hawk-Walks

Have been listening to and reading the works of Thoreau as I paint. Amazed to discover someone other than me who shares the following sentiment, from “Walking”: “My spirits infallibly rise in...

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Overheard in February: “Not Brain Dead”

When: 2/2. Where: Greenwich Street. Who: Little boy (about 5) among friends. Attitude: Jubilant. Quote: “I’m so glad I’m going to the dentist!” When: 2/3. Where: Greenwich Village. Who: Young woman to...

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Being

What glues me to earth: not gravity, but the daily sweep; the hint of the mourning dove; an unexpected slash of paint.

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Snow Massifs

Turns out the blizzard has coated NYC with over 20 inches. Everywhere are icy fields. What a treat: Macadam and pavement are whited out, under a bone-grey sky. This morning at around 8:00 I take the...

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Forgiving Thanksgiving

“… give peace to write and read and think.”  — Lucretius ~~~~~ To live here, in this desirable area, one must always fight multiplicities of urban irritations, except on holidays. Here is my pet peeve,...

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