#11-drift-solstice 2008

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This is the grass your feet are planted on.

You paint it orange or you sing it green,

But you have never found

A way to make the grass mean what you mean.


A cloud can be whatever you intend:

Ostrich or leaning tower or staring eye.

But you have never found

A cloud sufficient to express the sky.


--Adrienne Rich - from Rural Reflections

11-drift-1000w.jpgI arrived home last night after dark. Even though it was hidden behind the clouds, the moon made the pond mysterious and bright. In Washington I had looked at the fog on the Potomac, subtle shades of white in a gallery and paused to discuss poets and titles. As our words drifted, pondering associations of the material to the conceptual, our eyes read the tunes of clay arrangements.

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