
Seattle
Seattle Photos-Upside Down Reflections
Seattle Photo-Fitting In
Seattle Photo-Where Is Your Duck?
Seattle Photo-Not What It Seems
Seattle Photo-Looking Out
Seattle Photo-Duwamish View
Seattle Photo-Sweater & Sky
Seattle Photo-Another Ship Shot
Seattle Photo-Alley Light
Seattle Photo-What Are You Looking At?
Seattle Photos-Spring Is Around The Corner
Repost-Poem By Seamus Heaney-R.I.P: ‘The Grauballe Man’
The Grauballe Man
As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep
the black river of himself.
The grain of his wrists
is like bog oak,
the ball of his heel
like a basalt egg.
His instep has shrunk
cold as a swan’s foot
or a wet swamp root.
His hips are the ridge
and purse of a mussel,
his spine an eel arrested
under a glisten of mud.
The head lifts,
the chin is a visor
raised above the vent
of his slashed throat
that has tanned and toughened.
The cured wound
opens inwards to a dark
elderberry place.
Who will say ‘corpse’
to his vivid cast?
Who will say ‘body’
to his opaque repose?
And his rusted hair,
a mat unlikely
as a foetus’s.
I first saw his twisted face
in a photograph,
a head and shoulder
out of the peat,
bruised like a forceps baby,
but now he lies
perfected in my memory,
down to the red horn
of his nails,
hung in the scales
with beauty and atrocity:
with the Dying Gaul
too strictly compassed
on his shield,
with the actual weight
of each hooded victim,
slashed and dumped.
Digging through the past and digging at the thing, a body almost lovingly rendered, made alive on the tongue, looking inward and trying to look forward.
Wikipedia’s Grauballe Man page.
Seattle Photo-Ship Slidin’ Away
Happy Belated Easter!
I remain convinced that a blog/online presence is secondary to life. A way to document one’s experiences with the things that really matter (many ideas really matter).
Most social media doesn’t seem worth making one’s Self small to fit in the sewer pipes of online communication (a work in progress, these pipes).
Don’t get me wrong, we all gotta pay the rent. I have some admiration for the desire not to starve. God Bless the ones who make me laugh.
The most interesting writers of the day are usually idea merchants; spreading down their cloths upon the cobbles. I admire people gifted enough to display the thoughts of others as though their own.
Living takes it out of you. When you need ideas, may you find what you need. Most importantly, the thoughts you have become your habits, and your habits become your character.
No one gets out alive.
I think that’s why we have this old and important story about the Resurrection…

Seattle Photo-Wind Off The Lake
Seattle Photo-Color Practice
Seattle Photo-Looking Around
Seattle Photo-Breakfast At Bistro Dumpster
Northwest crows live in territorial family groups; foraging constantly for food. From dawn to dusk, you can find the usual customers, at the usual places, at the usual times.
They are cautious, and like a high, safe perch from which to view the world. Upon discovery of a new food source, they scope out the scene carefully, swooping down to ground-level only after the coast is clear.

Seattle Photo-A T.V. Detective Through Glass
Seattle Photo-Is That Food?
Seattle Photo-Traveling Companion
Seattle Photo-One Day, All This Will Be Yours
Seattle Photo-Railroad Blue
Seattle Photo-Stripes & Train
Do you guys remember the old Amtrak baggage car/American Airlines logos?
Engage your sense-memory. No one will find you here. No one.
***Except for the good folks at DataCorp Inc, specifically the Eye Tracking training-unit (shout out to Teddy). Also, I should advise that engagement metrics could be used to curate responsible citizenship through train-travel at Amtrak and the DOT, too (efficient and caring).
****Michael’s cousin Peter knows a guy, and some ‘Colombians?‘ are running terabytes of data in old Dell hard-drives (yes, really) around Cape Horn. Your data could be in there, too.
Thanks for looking.

Seattle Photo-Bathing In Winter
Luna Girls is a new installation in West Seattle, looking East towards the city. There used to be ‘Luna Park‘ on the tip of Alki Point.

Seattle Photos-Winter Mood
Seattle Photo-Winter Morning Walk
Seattle Photo-I Hear You
Seattle Photo-The Letter B
Seattle Photo-Red Light, Green Light
Seattle Photo-X Marks The Spot
Seattle Photos-A Gull, Considered

—
This was Harry at his most presentable: A shrewd cunning in stillness. Perhaps, he’d even brought me a question.
He was half-again as large as the other gulls near the Market. Not respected, maybe, but feared.
My mind would wander to thoughts of freedom, watching his wings dip and scissor, cutting the air. Sometimes I would watch his eyes, too, scouring the ground for food and the sky for other birds.
The constant shrieking and territorial displays were better than silence, Dear Reader, especially if thoughts of death crept in (how much I missed L).
—
Harry had other behaviors: Gobbling fish guts and slurping coffee directly from the street. One day, he’d snatched a french-fry mid-air from a child’s fingers. After the shock and a brief consolation, we smiled in mutual surprise.
Clever, I suppose.
In short, Harry didn’t give a shit.
In fact, the bird shit wherever he pleased.
This is where our story begins…

Seattle Photo-Craftsman Blue
Seattle Photo-Bridge & Mountain
Seattle Photo-Tired Of Walking
Seattle Photo-Don’t Buy That Condo!
The photo’s all real. Just playing around with some text.

—
Kojak’ll chase a perp down a garbage-strewn alley on the lower East Side. Right around minute fifty, just before the last ads for life insurance and Polident.
Someone’s gotta let the mother of another dead hooker taste a little justice.
Maybe a sharply-spoken word unloosens memory; a lost soul’s dreams, floating to some place in the sky.
Maybe amidst the stench of dopeheads and their dealers, greed and thoughtless action..a splash of Old Spice reminds us all of a little thing called hope.
—
This is my favorite:
Seattle Photo-Winter Rain
Seattle Photo-Under The Bridge
Seattle Photo-Husky Sunday
Seattle Photo-Silhouette Spot-Fog, Clear Skies & Fire-Smoke
Seattle Photos-Santa Waits To Take Us All ‘Across The Lake’ If You Know What I Mean
Seattle Photo-Kirkland Night Shot
Sunday Photo-Red Chains
Seattle Photo-Shipping Sunrise
Thursday Photo-Color Practice
Seattle Photo-Same Old Sunset Spot
Seattle Photo-Looking South
Seattle Photo-Fog Race
Seattle Photo-Wind Practice
Seattle Photo-Strange City
Seattle Photo-Crosswalk
Seattle Photo-Public Art
Seattle Photo & A Poem By Richard Wilbur
Today, rousing from sleep, if your first sight was that of a young couple consumed by one another, silent within the silences of conversation, would it be as dark as the following?
I hope not!
Thanks to a reader.
From Richard Wilbur’s ‘Love Calls Us to the Things of This World’
…“Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.”
Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world’s hunks and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns and rises,
“Bring them down from their ruddy gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure floating
Of dark habits,
keeping their difficult balance.”

Seattle Photo-Sunday Morning Fog
Sunday Photo-October Sunset
Seattle Photo-Hill & Cloud
Seattle Photo-More Fog Practice
Seattle Photo-Commerce In Fog
Seattle Photo-Fog Day
Seattle Photo-Focus
Seattle Photo-Fence & City
Rowing Practice
Bank Lunch Blue
Seattle Photo-Last Days Of Summer
The Figure 5-A Weekend Poem By William Carlos Williams & A Photo
The Great Figure
Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.
I like Charles Demuth’s fidelity to the original, and use of imagist-imagination. The figure 5 comprises such an important part of the poem.
‘Imagism was a sub-genre of Modernism concerned with creating clear imagery with sharp language. The essential idea was to re-create the physical experience of an object through words. As with all of Modernism, Imagism implicitly rejected Victorian poetry, which tended toward narrative.‘
And:
‘The most exemplified phase of Modernism, referred to as “High Modernism,” occurred during the inter-war years (1918-1939). This was the time when writers synonymous with Modernism, such as Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, T.S. Eliot, and D.H. Lawrence, thrived. While Victorians typically concerned themselves with rendering reality as they understood it into fiction, Modernists recognized that reality was subjective, and instead strove to represent human psychology in fiction.‘
During the post-war years, the confessionals, with a fair amount of free and blank verse became dominant, with a kind of feelings-first, psychological exploration of the (S)elf.
Dear Reader, this photograph represents the closest I’ve gotten to elements of the modernist imagination so far. I hope you enjoy. The Straussian movement pushes back to a kind of classicist revival, an embrace of tradition, and rejection of much modernity.
***On second-thought, the photo of these parts of very real thing is abstracted into a kind of modernesque design.
Fire Truck Mirrors & A Bit Of Sky

Seattle Photo-Pack Life
Seattle Photo-Who’s Taking Care Of Your 3rd Chakra?
Seattle Photo-Postcard City & Ye Olde English Shoppe
In a naturally-induced, mildly Romantic dream-state, I learned Seattle and Tacoma combined comprise the 4th-largest container gateway in North America.
Like a cloud myself, and like a bird below the clouds, I moved through hanging gardens of rain. I landed on a ledge to warm my wings. I shook and cried and became the building, expanding as the sun warmed each stone.

—
Partly because of death, love and taxes, partly because some people are forever beating themselves, others, and a confession from the English language, I went looking for the most blue-green grove of late summer I could find.
Somewhere where they just say the sounds of words, and words mean things. Things like deep sorrow and joy, car and ship and tooth. Words full of wisdom and words tied to memory and words seeking each moment as it passes, welcoming truth.
Well…
I’ll take the West African blue note, and this green, green English. Follow the link to YouTube, alas.
As for 80’s pop, and the New-Romantic synth sound, it’s got an older groove:
Looking for ye Olde English Shoppe:


































































