Category Archives: originally posted at…

Am writing

#‎amwriting‬ when work is so intense I sometimes forget to breathe even though I’m listening to natural sounds like waves and rain wind and birds and a break from almost not breathing is advisable. #‎amwriting‬ when courage waves at me … Continue reading

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Water-centaur

In the Playa Azul video,
there’s a shot-sequence of grey and blue
sea
cloud,
with mountains erupting across a bay
at low tide.
A man, a little left of center, is wading… Continue reading

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Refresh

Changes: After a move from NYC to the Hudson River Valley region of New York State (USA), life is less circumscribed by a city’s dense population and urban landscapes. My mind and feelings are slowly infiltrating empty spaces, as if they’re shoreline caves and I’m the sea… Continue reading

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The edge of a leaf

You touch me and stay like an autumn leaf on rain-wet stone, elemental, separate, subdued, same in beauty of this season. You touch me. I stay like an autumn leaf on rain-wet stone. (2007, rev. 2014) share?

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Warmth

Drifting snow piles up on east-facing window screens north wind breaks it down   Wrapped in cashmere memories sliding down cool as fresh snow share?

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Soft basket

A basket slung over my shoulder by leather straps, its belly shaped like a plum, wove of three kinds of grass — thick-striped — holds a stone, a shadow-self that comes and goes, places where I touch the ground, a … Continue reading

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Simple

I’m blots of ink, a line or two, a supergirl you draw from inner sight. Now split the paper with your pen to find my comic heart. © 6 Jan 2009, Heather Quinn, all rights reserved; edited 5 Jan 2012, … Continue reading

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Late winter #tweetpoems

February flings rain out into the cold, then curves its infant hands to catch the earth’s perfumes. (24 Feb 2012) Others’ hands, keeping my tempo, try to rinse away my voice, then hang what remains out in the wind, like … Continue reading

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Takes on Google+

As wild as the sea, with a home onshore, always, that’s most safe & well-built. Like loving someone so much that saying so is almost a sin. Like sledding in fresh snow. Like feeding handfuls of grass to a foal. … Continue reading

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Clouds, like Toledo

Riding south, across the river, a mile below the Bridge, see? A tower and forested hills, with leaves glowing in nooks in the bare, smoky trees, as if someone’s been shooting paintballs there, and the wind shearing the earth to … Continue reading

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Prescriptive

If happiness is honey, tickly-thick enough to make you choke, if happiness is wine, a smooth swallow and a short-lived high, if you’re defended against joy,     share?

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Tere liye, life goes on…

Present moments: listening to this still — it came in via Outlandish‘s Facebook feed. I’m still a little open-mouthed at how ebrahim / @eebsofresh wraps his voice in, out and around the lyrics to make something totally new of the … Continue reading

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The sloop on motor

In this story of then, long ago, there are just two of us:  a man, wet through, in soaked purple shirt and running shorts, fast-walking through stands of lush trees tossing down by the river; and me, lounging against a … Continue reading

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A poem, an edit

A poem’s beginning is maybe a waking dream — expressed in words. Inside that beginning, the writer hides something secret, even from him- or herself.    share?

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No words

Please, don’t speak when I’m making art or thinking about palettes with no greens, pigment granulation or studio space.  I won’t hear you.  I’ll deflect your conversation.  Don’t wait for me, I have no words.   share?

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Heaven

In Kieślowski‘s Heaven, cinematographer Frank Griebe: the way his eye sees the architecture of people, as well as of buildings… …the way he shoots light, masses, volumes, voids, angles and implied motion…   share?

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High summer, mid-afternoon

Then thank you, oh food delivery service, for running out of local peaches and cornish hens last night, so I ordered Finger Lakes plums, curried chicken salad and chocolate cookies. Then thank you again, for running out of chocolate cookies … Continue reading

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What my hands made once

Early school days: A dirndl skirt of unbleached muslin printed with a floral pattern in indigo dye, my first hand-made creation, made from cloth given to me by a textile factory manager when my father took me on a factory-visiting … Continue reading

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Questions, answered

For me, movies are a fantastical experience, and when the moviemaker doesn’t honor his or her participation in the world of fantasy, I get bored. On the other hand, movies always raise realistic questions for me, like: Who cleans up … Continue reading

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Confusion

Cr — t and cr — t both have wickets. One’s boring, the other’s chess on the run. Croquet’s wickets I confused with cricket’s, as a kid, so gave cricket a miss for too long. Love it now, though I … Continue reading

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