Contemporary American Art – Ilir Pojani
Below – “White dream”; “Green fireflies”; “Flowers in a vase”; “Young Man 37”; “White Queen”; “Hope”; “Racing with the wind.”
A Poem for Today
by Jennifer Gray
The neighbor’s horses idle
under the roof
of their three-sided shelter,
looking out at the rain.
one or another
will fade into the shadows
in the corner, maybe
to eat, or drink.
Still, the others stand,
blowing out their warm
breaths. Rain rattles
on the metal roof.
Their hoof prints
in the corral
open gray eyes to the sky,
and wink each time
another drop falls in.
Contemporary Canadian Art – Victor Tkachenko: Part I of II.
Below – “Flower R”; “I know you, you know me, No. 2”; “Circus is here”; “Flower Z”; “Shower”; “Doubles.”
Musings in Winter: Chogyam Trungpa
“The problem is that ego can convert anything to its own use, even spirituality. Ego is constantly attempting to acquire and apply the teachings of spirituality for its own benefit…. Our vast collections of knowledge and experience are just part of the grandiose quality of ego. We display them to the world and, in so doing, reassure ourselves that we exist, safe and secure, as ‘spiritual’ people.”
Below – “Waiting”; “Mummy”; “Winter Games”; “Stewardess”; “Blue Eyebrow”; “Fairy.”
Some quotes from the work of Henry James:
“Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind.”
“Deep experience is never peaceful.”
“Excellence does not require perfection.”
“You must save what you can of your life; you musn’t lose it all simply because you’ve lost a part.”
“Sorrow comes in great waves…but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us. And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.”
“It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined.”
Contemporary American Art – Kim Kimbro
Below – “Never let you go”; “tender is the night”; “The clearing”; “Not a rhetorical question”; “seahorse”; “fawn.”
A Poem for Today
By Margaret Hasse
Our high school principal wagged his finger
over two manila folders
lying on his desk, labeled with our names—
my boyfriend and me—
called to his office for skipping school.
The day before, we ditched Latin and world history
to chase shadows of clouds on a motorcycle.
We roared down rolling asphalt roads
through the Missouri River bottoms
beyond town, our heads emptied
of review tests and future plans.
We stopped on a dirt lane to hear
a meadowlark’s liquid song, smell
heart-break blossom of wild plum.
Beyond leaning fence posts and barbwire,
a tractor drew straight lines across the field
unfurling its cape of blackbirds.
Now forty years after that geography lesson
in spring, I remember the principal’s words.
How right he was in saying:
‘This will be part of
your permanent record.’