I’m down here in Annapolis visiting with Meg as she recovers from her injuries. I am able-bodied, but her lovely doting parents make me feel like I could take a week or two off and make their house a little retreat of sorts. I haven’t written a Friday Haiku in a while, so here goes:
Meg’s Grecian in-
juries are assuaged by co-
pious opiates.
Vuvuzelas buzzzzzzzzzzz.
Annoy the grown men on pitch.
Buzzzzzzz, I say. Buzzzzz buzzzzz.
Charlotte Ann O’Neill:
smaller than a bread box and
bigger than the world.
I am completely impressed with the volume and quality of submissions I received from many of you when I asked yesterday for photographs of telephone and electrical wires. You all can take a picture! I can’t thank you enough, and I want to remind you that this series won’t be ending anytime soon. So, if the mood strikes you or inspiration calls, please keep those pictures coming.
The painting on the left is one I did today, from a photo that Deanne took the other day in Colorado. It’s not finished, but it’s close.
Here’s my Friday Haiku:
Pictures of wires have
been dutifully received
via satellite.
Ph. D. parties,
stork delivery systems
are our weekend plans.
Where to find ideas?
Pulsing through telephone wires,
Grazing on sheep farms.
So here’s the mural after day two. It’s coming along pretty nicely, and I think I’ll be finished by Sunday evening. I’m happily tired and about to sit down with my pregnant married friends for lasagna and wine. We’re all in our pajamas. I’m pretty stoked.
No haiku today;
I can’t count to seventeen.
Oh wait, yes I can!
Volcanoes, showers
of meteor. Could be the
rapture, could be spring.
Neither paint nor brush
have a dog in this fight. Just
me: the matador.
Lovely weather and
Marina Abramovic.
You’re something, New York.