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Day Poem | snowdriftsnow
https://snowdriftsnow.wordpress.com/2011/01/03/day-poem-18
Taylor Katz’s Blog. January 3, 2011 1 Comment. Twenty 20 (The Last One). We walked to the end. Of the pier, and disappeared into. The thickness of morning. Only to appear days later. In black and white and. Always: It wasn’t morning. But it is enough to remember it. Perfectly as such: We walk. The pier as if it was. A narrow windowsill,. And the last one too. January 3, 2011 at 6:45 pm. I think I’m done posting too. Something about ending it with fifteen poems on January 1 made sense to me. So is it over?
little volcanoes of celebration | snowdriftsnow
https://snowdriftsnow.wordpress.com/2010/12/31/little-volcanoes-of-celebration
Taylor Katz’s Blog. Little volcanoes of celebration. December 31, 2010 1 Comment. Out the door at twelve fifty something. We get half a block down before we hear it. Little volcanoes of celebration. From house to house. First a few houses to the west. Then fireworks in the east. Plus plastic/metallic cardboard party horns. There are people in those houses. And if nothing else. You have this moment in common. With all of them. Carrot butter and multi-seed baguette]. Echos from other micro worlds.
Day Poem | snowdriftsnow
https://snowdriftsnow.wordpress.com/2010/12/31/day-poem-16
Taylor Katz’s Blog. December 31, 2010 1 Comment. The note we might have left. On the car we inadvertently backed. Into: The hills here, I think you’d. Agree, they are numerous and infinite. In their treachery, you see, we aren’t. Familiar with hills of this tilt and certainly. With settling our cars between other cars. On their steep, and in fact we were extremely. Aware of and, indeed, fearful of the real. Possibility of such incidents occurring, and,. As perhaps you could understand, it seems. Might be...
Day Poem | snowdriftsnow
https://snowdriftsnow.wordpress.com/2011/01/01/day-poem-17
Taylor Katz’s Blog. January 1, 2011. The black rock just visible. Through the radio static. Fog, the sea erased. In the grey fuzz and. In this infant year’s. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. Laquo; Take Fifteen.
January | 2011 | snowdriftsnow
https://snowdriftsnow.wordpress.com/2011/01
Taylor Katz’s Blog. January 3, 2011 1 Comment. Twenty 20 (The Last One). We walked to the end. Of the pier, and disappeared into. The thickness of morning. Only to appear days later. In black and white and. Always: It wasn’t morning. But it is enough to remember it. Perfectly as such: We walk. The pier as if it was. A narrow windowsill,. And the last one too. Estuary: that part of the mouth or lower course of a river in which the river’s current meets the sea’s tide. January 1, 2011. From our gravel path.
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scraps of song cycling | detail collector
https://frantelope.wordpress.com/2015/08/05/scraps-of-song-cycling
August 5, 2015 · 11:36 pm. Scraps of song cycling. It’s the knowing not the going. That will bring your body home. We open the third build day. With a few rounds of this song. Whose notes go deliciously low. Teach your bones how to rest. I hold the drill hard. Only power tool used on site). Against left hip because of. How it (with this boring bit) can kick. Nina and i chiseling out mortices. Scraps of song circle music cycling. Cynthia and i post-lunch sprawled. In the orchard sipping our respective.
when hatcheting | detail collector
https://frantelope.wordpress.com/2015/08/04/when-hatcheting
Building is a bunch of people making something together. Scraps of song cycling →. August 4, 2015 · 11:52 pm. Ouch of rock-road gravel under. Sky hazing to the east and all. Moody blues to the west. 7something am heading back towards whitehouse. Marie approaches as i recede we. Hi-five in the crossing. Hand choked way up the handle. Into a point unless. You’re chopping firewood. With hatchets, mauls, hammers. Let the weight of the tool. Do the work for you. Of the mortise is your. Remind you of anything.
detail collector | 1-10 details from the day. everyday. | Page 2
https://frantelope.wordpress.com/page/2
Newer posts →. August 16, 2016 · 9:35 pm. From the water world:. Richard Rossi and his 4 year old great grandson Justice wade through water in search of higher ground after their home took in water in St. Amant, Louisiana. – voice of america, day in photos. Filed under daily practice. Tagged as st. amant louisiana. August 15, 2016 · 9:48 pm. My finger on emory’s loose lower. How we all crowd around. The phone on the porch table. And first it is alton’s voice. Speaking dine’ back. Cast in my ribcage.
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snowdriftsnow | poems
Taylor Katz’s Blog. January 3, 2011 1 Comment. Twenty 20 (The Last One). We walked to the end. Of the pier, and disappeared into. The thickness of morning. Only to appear days later. In black and white and. Always: It wasn’t morning. But it is enough to remember it. Perfectly as such: We walk. The pier as if it was. A narrow windowsill,. And the last one too. Estuary: that part of the mouth or lower course of a river in which the river’s current meets the sea’s tide. January 1, 2011. From our gravel path.
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