candelabra
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My sweet grandmother turned 88 last week. About three years ago doctors offered her a choice. To risk a dangerous operation in which she might lose her life, or do nothing and allow ... allow the inevitable eroding tissue of her heart to give out at its own pace (soon).

She took the risk.
They cut her open, took her heart into hand, put it on a table beside her body. They went through it for any weakness the way you might finger the fabric of an old family quilt--to mend, strengthen. Then they put her heart back (with over 80 years of love--for my grandfather, my family, the earth, her traveling, every little secret thing she may or may not even know about herself, or tell anyone else; all maybe within it).

Imagine holding in your hand the beating center of someone’s life? I try to imagine its weight, its obvious warmth, its pulsing against the sensitivity of my pulse. It makes me weak, all over. To hold another’s heart like that, to share that kind of experience, I would quite literally fall in love—bonded to that person forever.

It is in our hands, really, just like that, so much: this world, its health/our health, the quality of giving, of mercy, integrity. Truth telling, risk. One to another, we are each other’s heart surgeons, mind surgeons, hope surgeons—teachers. (Aren’t we)?
..
Nazim Hikmet ..... his poem On Living: this is a poem that made me think once, that poetry really mattered when i was almost 20. More here...

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the earth & the forest

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some rare old beauties: I have a friend who dismantles these to use in sculpture (she drives me nuts cause i always want them). Look to the left for versions.
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Beckett, Play: part 1 & part 2 also the text..
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peace to all of you--and a *can i please
refuse to take a bath" peek a boo from mr. beagle bunny. : )
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link to tumbleword other site
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ahh.. : ) a beautiful day
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on the table;
sundrunk flower (or is it me)
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writing with ember of match that lit last night's candles; a perfect "op" s (now ash).
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Hello.

September... ahh. The air clearing, the light slanting new--finally a soft windy coolish (77 degrees) and bright. Perfect. Many people I know and love are born this month. In fact, September is officially Birthday month at my house. Happy Birthday to ... (you fill in your name anyway) :)

"The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship." --W. Blake [ associated link to engraving archive].

I have been reading poetry; Dream Baker, by Jean Valentine. I'll share a few lines...

"You were so close I could have touched the dead/ "Childhood in your face..."

"These words I tell you smoking in my eye:/ The tree-frog is the tree frog. The sky is the sky,/ The rattling bay runs night and day I, I , I,/ Over and over turning on itself: there/ Where it curls on emptiness: there I sing.

"You will not be forgiven if you ignore/ The pillar of slow insistent snow/ Framing the angel at the door,/ Who will not speak and will not go..."

Yes, I am really in a quiet mood-- almost time to take a few days of silence (of fasting from all things, including words, tv, foods, drinks and speech). Have you ever tried it?

Things to see-- The Pulse--check yours if you haven't checked all this out :)

This Gift ...First, it is Wrapped and later Revealed.

The History of Dance: French and Saunders :)

From a friend in Amherst, this Political Skit from Saturday Night Live :)

Older than I-- my

new rock. It fits in left hand nicely if writing with right hand. :)

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Peace and all good to you all. Link to Tumbleword's other site

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~ Jorie Graham

Mr. Beagle Bunny sends you all a snuggle bunny Thank You for the good wishes and Wonderful dog stories.

He still has a dozen purple pills to take, and is in a purple haze (though Jimmy Hendrix hasn't appeared in his dreams) he is asking about a Red pill and a Blue pill that might take him down a better rabbit hole... I said, Go ask Alice.

Small skit of Alice in Wonderland
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Today I saw a snake in the grass, rather elegant and striped with a curved pattern, it slithered sidewards away. I wanted to be sure it wasn't poisonous, but laughed because this morning I was singing silly song, "I don't like spiders and snakes... and knew I would see a snake.

Couple years back, a local man stepped on a Copper Head. The snake was a gentleman, didn't even ask an apology, tried to go its own way. Snakes are nice that way. :) But the manly man went stomping on the snake with big manly boots. The Copper Head stood up and bit him right in that delicate place between thumb and index finger. The venom rotted the flesh of his hand almost to the bone. Doctors had to graft skin from the guy's pubic area to save his hand. Now the manly man has a very hairy thumb--and has to wax. :)
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Jorie Graham: Sometimes its good to eat people's thoughts like bread and butter.
These are long, but try, bookmark them? a) Splendid Declivities & aslo at Berkley (this one should be pushed forward to 0:22.00 where she will talk a bit and then read and then answer questions late.
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The evolution of the "ampersand" (&)

my weeds 08

To tumbleword 2 here and Peace to all and Health too.

~ erosions (eros i ons)

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When I was a baby my father snuck home a little dog, slipped it into my crib and called my mother to "come see something cute." Me, blowing bubbles or doing something drool-ish.

She looked at the puppy and said, No Way!
Already she had three children (plus my father) and later my brother on his way. The dog became my older sister's dog. :)
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There was a small lake in walking distance to the house and this dog loved to dash out to explore. He had to cross a street to get there and was hit by a car. He broke his leg, and had to stay overnight at the Vet. That evening, bad lightening thunder and rain came over our town. Our dog, alone and maybe scared jumped out a window (I don't know how). In the down-pour, all bandaged up he crawled across town, by scent or knowing--nobody knows how long it took; it was at least a 20 min ride by car. My mother, who is very intuitive heard something late, went to the door in her nightgown and there ... drenched and crying exhausted, the dog. He wanted to heal with his family.

Dogs are amazing; we don't give them enough credit.
My beagle bunny.
He's been a bit sick. Ever try to sneak medicine in dog food? He gobbles everything; I look in the bottom of his bowl, a tiny licked clean purple pill. How do they do that?
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It hurts me too: Elmore James & version 2 by Keb' Mo'.
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Talking Heads: Wild Wild Life. ... Because we're under Tornado warnings. I am going to bake Peanut Butter cookies; so to have something to clutch if I get a wind trip to Oz. A Tornado did touch down in Clemson SC near this college which is great at spying on students. But all looks well so far. : ) Except there is a problem out of Atlanta with airplanes and flights are all grounded. Stopped.
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Artist James Hampton, a janitor who collected tinfoil and trash to make this visionary work; Zoom in here . I was reminded of this when smosch (see these) linked to M. Tichy who reminded me of a ravaged genius Whitman. :)
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Bob Marley live in Boston 1979 No Woman No Cry

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Peace and health to all, smile breath, smile, breath;: )
Link to Tumbleword 2 site.
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~ thinking s

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Bound to ourselves for life
we must learn how to
put up with each other.
~W.H. Auden
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How are you doing?
Saw my first humming bird of this season today--tiny
body with breast plate of jeweltone greens hoovering in my window during breakfast. She came back two more times. It has never happened that I didn't receive one daily over the summer. They are usually plentiful. Proof I was a lax, lazy gardener this summer. Perhaps I should show off the weeds I grew. :)
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Someone is teaching us to speak Czech, very soon :-)
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Reverse Grafitti Project via This
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William Lamson : his Intervention 7 and also see his Actions 2 which for me is like a parody of gun slingers.
Strangely, a glass jar fell off the pantry shelf while we were watching this--it sounded like a shot.
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Peace to you all (practice smile yoga) & link to Tumbleword 2
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ice: linear breathings
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~ sweet chamber

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Just to say hello.

Seems blogging is like opening a long window onto a balcony and speaking a bit to the air. After I go back inside, a recorded message of what is said, waits--just for you.
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Without your great comments, this blog would be dust mites. Thanks. :)
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Just reveled in a hunk of Rosemary Kalamata Olive bread with tiny slices of sharp Vermont Cheddar. It made me remember reading Heidi as a child. The children woke and tore bread and hunks of cheese and drank goats milk out of bowls and later sat to watch the sun splash over the hills. Such simple things, and to this day, I can't tear a wealthy hunk of bread and not think cheese. It is so easy to please in this regard. :)
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Provocative photos: Alison Brady via photo blog here.
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Ms. Billie Holiday: Comes Love, etc
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Can't paint over that portrait Van Goth ... paintings hidden underneath paintings can be found via chemical analysis of paint (minerals) and reproduced. Paint by elements. Fascinating.
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Peace to you all; practice smile yoga, Link to http://totouchupontheday.blog.com/
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Yesterday I saw two yellow finch splashing in an old ceramic bowl of rain water--they sat on the bowl's lip a bit to snuggle and preen. Once, I heard a strange knock on my front door. I opened it to see what shy small child might be out there wanting to sell cookies or something from school. Nobody stood there, a tiny yellow finch had thrown itself against the door and fallen to end on the WELCOME mat.
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Late last night owls hooted in the dark trees. I whistled up. A whoo, far off in the trees, answered back... at least I tell myself it did. Last night, owls were in my dreams. Does this happen to you, too?
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Slideshow * Boneyard of Signs from Vegas (forgive me i don't know where i found it).
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foggy hauntings: photos
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Listen to Aleksandar Hemon read and discusses Bernard Malamud’s short story “A Summer’s Reading” --* story : when books where vitaly important. Or hear John Cheever's Reunion (a very short story)
or choose your own from the Fiction Podcast Index.
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Peace to all, and link to Tumbleword's site (larger images)

airpot parking
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brotherly love (with a little help from old friends

one blue eye one brown (old man now)
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see what Frodo (tagged) is up to
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Last night I stayed up past midnight watching Cry, The Beloved Country. Noticed the book on my shelf just that morning and thought "read it next" so it seemed a synchronicity it was on cable. Watching it, I wept. I wept. I wept. (it is NOT that time of the month).
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The world sometimes seems full of such uselessly reasoned out pain, cruelty and judgement. One man against another (ideas setting them at odds); men who otherwise live side by side with such beauty, such potential for amazement. Then one man offers his heart, his hand. Then... (all is possible) for we write the story.
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am enjoying these drawings: you have to scroll down to see
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Love and am eating paragraph by paragraph like toffees individually wrapped. Found via this great blogger.
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Perhaps like the brotherly love photo below--people of the world should get together for a good drink and wear a silly hat and practice the new yoga, smiling and laughter. :)
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do practice your smile yoga--breathe smile laugh :) stretch it out, smile into the toes and up now, into the brain stem, tickle yourself in all the good places, very good. now, :) hold it, smile, :)
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Peace to all and link to Tumbleword origin etc.
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brotherly love (in boston not philadelphia) :)
photos: boston b
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sunhat
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I was stirring red sauce earlier, adding coffee and a little dark chocolate while it simmered, and this popped into my head. Question to ask -- Who would I be if I had never read a book?
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Would I be the little child I remember early on, exuberant, creative, curious. Would I still hold that kind of heart?
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Would I be a person inventing a new language? A person finding a quiet rapture with nature?
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How would the essence of you be different—more intensified like a sauce reduced of extra content? Or limp, lifeless? Troubled?
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Every day of a life this question has an answer—unique and probably un-sayable (because we can’t go back and know; can we?)
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I used to have a book about a man who went into the woods and lived silently for a huge amount of years, maybe ten years. He said, by doing this he found the silence between the words, and I never forgot it; he said he found Spirit living there in the silence. Even now I can see his face—a mystic he became; his eyes a bit ravaged with inner light; his whole being open to the inner harmonics of the soul’s music; creation’s music.
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secretly i have always wanted a "geiger counter"
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Fractals of dreaming Sheep from Quark --fascinated me, especially the language used.
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Boz Scaggs (for Jimmy)
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Peace to all who enter here, and link to Tumbleword's origin
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: _) Smiling is the new yoga; laughing, too.
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Reggiano Parmigiano reggiano parmigiano reggianio parmigiano

I like the rhythmic beauty of saying Reggiano Parmigianno. Try it. ")

6x outloud, then twirl and make a wish... a dizzy wish.

World peace could be one wish.

(i know you will do this more than once and you get a new wish every time).

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Just subscribed to this website Fabchannel, live concerts.

So far have listened to this concert and Martha Wainwright (discovered here) and

because I love a man with a violin, am now here.

But there is so much more.

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Have you seen these 3 posts, i also love her writing

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and loving these. The comments show we each see differently. How do you see them?

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on Flicker, love the sepia of these , and what is the answer to this?

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peace to all of you & link to Tumbleword's other site (photos better there)

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a socrates

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