The Last Thing on My Mind
This performance by Tom Paxton of the song he wrote, The Last Thing on My Mind, is so moving. One guy with a guitar and a little tie and a microphone. Brilliant and beautiful. It's hard to forget this song.
In Honor of Memories - Dr. Cynthia O. Harris passed away January 9 2010
She was an amazing, special woman. Search her story here,
http://remembertheirstory.com/obituaries.htm
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
HOOPS
Buzz wrote a poem for Rich
It's called Hoops
Rich asked for a poem for his birthday - it's about basketball and friendship and... Rich
Check it out on redRavine.com
Permalink : HOOPS
Buzz wrote a poem for Rich
It's called Hoops
Rich asked for a poem for his birthday - it's about basketball and friendship and... Rich
Check it out on redRavine.com
Permalink : HOOPS
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Harvest Moon October 3 2009
Autumn 2009 - Balloon Fiesta
Click Here for Albuquerque Balloon fiesta slideshow -- great shots taken by real people
 |
| From Autumn 2009 |
Autumn 2009 - Balloon Fiesta
Click Here for Albuquerque Balloon fiesta slideshow -- great shots taken by real people
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
4th of July Double Rainbow Surprise
We enjoyed a full-sky panoramic double rainbow on the Fourth of July - but we did not have as much fun as the Rainbow Gathering, dancing in the mud up in the Jemez mountains.
"Waiting On The World To Change"
Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There's no way we ever could
Now we see everything that's going wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don't have the means
To rise above and beat it
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
It's hard to beat the system
When we're standing at a distance
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change
Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They would have never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on their door
And when you trust your television
What you get is what you got
Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want
That's why we're waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
It's not that we don't care,
We just know that the fight ain't fair
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
And we're still waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
We enjoyed a full-sky panoramic double rainbow on the Fourth of July - but we did not have as much fun as the Rainbow Gathering, dancing in the mud up in the Jemez mountains.
"Waiting On The World To Change"
Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There's no way we ever could
Now we see everything that's going wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don't have the means
To rise above and beat it
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
It's hard to beat the system
When we're standing at a distance
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change
Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They would have never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on their door
And when you trust your television
What you get is what you got
Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want
That's why we're waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
It's not that we don't care,
We just know that the fight ain't fair
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
And we're still waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change
[ www.azlyrics.com ]
Scorpion Weed: Don't Touch This
I foolishly pulled up this weed which is growing all over the place this year, and that was a mistake.
It gave me a horrible itchy blistery rash like poison ivy -- I was in urgent care on the 4th of July instead of enjoying the famous Corrales parade. Turns out this is likely the culprit for my three years of "plague" - I had no idea...this year was the worst ever.
Here's a photo (taken by © 2005 Robert Sivinski.)
I foolishly pulled up this weed which is growing all over the place this year, and that was a mistake.
It gave me a horrible itchy blistery rash like poison ivy -- I was in urgent care on the 4th of July instead of enjoying the famous Corrales parade. Turns out this is likely the culprit for my three years of "plague" - I had no idea...this year was the worst ever.
Here's a photo (taken by © 2005 Robert Sivinski.)
Friday, June 05, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
photo by Buzz
PULSE TO PULSE
For Linda
4/5/2009
1
Pulse to pulse
Poet to healer:
Page after page,
We turn.
Heal me, poet
For I have sinned
I’m a failed metaphor -
Mixed and confused,
Dangling with wronged participles
Unmodified in contraction.
Scribe me the ways of your
Commas and apostrophes
To pluck the thorn from my i ; wrench
The wretched semi-colon from my guts.
Not to misspell my hyperbole,
For willy-nilly we writ
The run-on sentence of children
While wee infinitives split.
photo by Buzz
2
You were the hottest
Haiku I can imagine
Drawn from pause in flame.
The pulse is our meter & our meter
Has been running a very long time.
Sly simile turned my phrase.
We scrambled up some um^lauts,
Sowed our Tao like synonyms
Tilde’d at windmills, too.
Backspacing speedbumps
Idylling through question marks.
Monkey business froze that rime,
Gibberish spoke no sense
Red ink, a sober wine,
Drunk a deadened tense.
3
My spine, your heart
Torn by paper.
Hollow bones hold heartbeat,
Knead dough for Lobo’s crust
His scratch bleeds your pockets,
Renders hole in trust
Two hobos pay their freight,
Tender gold from dust.
The quatrain’s left the station.
We’ll lay tracks again mañana
Tin spoons spin smooth in coffee,
Stir some mojo from that cup.
Coyotes cleared out henhouse:
Twenty years ain’t near enough.
4
Days stream the scroll,
By night we crease time
Verse etches water,
Wave into word into light
Shadows rhythm silence
Echo ribbons sea
Ripples riff
Through the tide
Pulse to pulse
You meet me.
Buzz
photo by Buzz
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Lessons From Geese
Watching birds in the winter on the Rio Grande is one of my favorite pastimes.
We have sandhill cranes, mallards, blue heron and geese down there just hanging out.
Once a man asked me if it was legal to shoot a fat Canada goose for supper. I told him no, I didn't think so.
I am reminded of those " Lessons Learned from Geese": Community – Cooperation – Common direction – Uplift those who follow – Honk encouragement – Accept help, Give help to others -
-Get back in line
…Keep to the Left (…just kidding)
I am honored to be a Guest Writer on the collaborative blog, redRavine.com with a piece called "What's Happening to the Bosque?" -- my personal experience on encountering the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers fuel load reduction project, which is cleaning out underbrush and inevitably destroying habitat in the Corrales Bosque Preserve. Check out the project scope here, if you are interested.
The post is on redRavine February 20 2009
redRavine.com
The article is also published without photographs in the Corrales Comment as part of an issue about this situation. Please comment here, if you like - that would be appreciated. Thanks.
Watching birds in the winter on the Rio Grande is one of my favorite pastimes.
We have sandhill cranes, mallards, blue heron and geese down there just hanging out.
Once a man asked me if it was legal to shoot a fat Canada goose for supper. I told him no, I didn't think so.
I am reminded of those " Lessons Learned from Geese": Community – Cooperation – Common direction – Uplift those who follow – Honk encouragement – Accept help, Give help to others -
-Get back in line
…Keep to the Left (…just kidding)
I am honored to be a Guest Writer on the collaborative blog, redRavine.com with a piece called "What's Happening to the Bosque?" -- my personal experience on encountering the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers fuel load reduction project, which is cleaning out underbrush and inevitably destroying habitat in the Corrales Bosque Preserve. Check out the project scope here, if you are interested.
The post is on redRavine February 20 2009
redRavine.com
The article is also published without photographs in the Corrales Comment as part of an issue about this situation. Please comment here, if you like - that would be appreciated. Thanks.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Baby
On a bright golden afternoon in November, I was down by the rio, and met a man walking his bird.
I have seen some unusual things in the bosque before - a guy on a unicyle, tandem bicyclists in matching outfits, llamas on leashes, a triplet-stroller, a Great Dane as big as a horse, a draft horse as big as a house. But I had not met a man walking a bird before this.
The bird's name is Baby Girl - and she was excited by the sounds of geese and ducks and cranes at the river. Her owner, Tim, told me about her - I wish I could remember everything he said.
Baby can't fly. She is an African Grey Parrot, and like many of her kind, she was captured in the Congo, and her wings were broken. She was put in box, along with hundreds of other enslaved parrots, and shipped across the sea. This practice is of course illegal, since the African Grey is a threatened species, and importation of wild-caught parrots is prohibited for the pet trade.
Nonetheless at least 20% of the global population is taken from the wild annually.
When Tim adopted her, he says it was like taking on the care of a 3-yr old child. She understands many commands and phrases and is as intelligent as a 6-yr old. (See this clip of an African Grey Parrot talking - they are able to mimic human speech incredibly well: Einstein Baby lived in a cage for 19 years until Tim started caring for her, and taking her out for walks.
That same afternoon, I saw this freshly-dead animal on the path. It's a long-tailed or bridled weasel. I wonder if it had escaped from the north beach area that has been cleared out by the US Army Corps of Engineers in a fuel-reduction project. I was sad to see this little guy. I was inspired to write a photo essay about the bosque clearing, you can read it here.
That very day my sister-in-law fell and broke both ankles.
On a bright golden afternoon in November, I was down by the rio, and met a man walking his bird.
I have seen some unusual things in the bosque before - a guy on a unicyle, tandem bicyclists in matching outfits, llamas on leashes, a triplet-stroller, a Great Dane as big as a horse, a draft horse as big as a house. But I had not met a man walking a bird before this.
The bird's name is Baby Girl - and she was excited by the sounds of geese and ducks and cranes at the river. Her owner, Tim, told me about her - I wish I could remember everything he said.
Baby can't fly. She is an African Grey Parrot, and like many of her kind, she was captured in the Congo, and her wings were broken. She was put in box, along with hundreds of other enslaved parrots, and shipped across the sea. This practice is of course illegal, since the African Grey is a threatened species, and importation of wild-caught parrots is prohibited for the pet trade.
Nonetheless at least 20% of the global population is taken from the wild annually.
When Tim adopted her, he says it was like taking on the care of a 3-yr old child. She understands many commands and phrases and is as intelligent as a 6-yr old. (See this clip of an African Grey Parrot talking - they are able to mimic human speech incredibly well: Einstein Baby lived in a cage for 19 years until Tim started caring for her, and taking her out for walks.
That same afternoon, I saw this freshly-dead animal on the path. It's a long-tailed or bridled weasel. I wonder if it had escaped from the north beach area that has been cleared out by the US Army Corps of Engineers in a fuel-reduction project. I was sad to see this little guy. I was inspired to write a photo essay about the bosque clearing, you can read it here.
That very day my sister-in-law fell and broke both ankles.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Ana on the Eighth Night
We had a wonderful mostly relaxing visit with Ariana, Jody, Noah and Toby, Sion Ben and Max, together, in Omaha this holiday season - it was a White Christmas and a bittersweet Chanukah. Aren't they all?
We are so grateful for everything, all is well. Many blessings this year.
See the photos here: Holidays 2008 Tonight is a huge full moon, stunning sight to the north of the Sandias.
Happy New Year 2009 - to all.
Spoiler Alert: Cute grandchildren Pics. No kidding they are really adorable! We had lots of fun with them, just playing, enjoying the gift of the moment.
P S Michele fell and broke both ankles November 18 - She is healing remarkably and doing very well! Send her an email miclupow@hotmail.com
LiL
I found this poem accidentally, and it calls to me to post it, which brought me back to updating this blog, which I was neglecting. I want to bring some of the beauty back from the workaday world. This poem reminds us of our options and asks us to be grateful for all of it.
It's called Waiting for Lumber
WAITING FOR LUMBER
Somehow none of us knew exactly
what time it was supposed to come.
So there we were, all of us, five men
at how much an hour given to picking
at blades of grass, tossing pebbles
at the curb, with nothing in the space
between the two red cones, and no distant
downshift of a roaring truck grinding
steadily towards us uphill. Someone thought
maybe one of us should go back to town
to call, but no one did, and no one gave
the order to. It was as if each to himself
had called a kind of strike, brought a halt,
locked out any impulse back to work.
What was work in our lives anyway?
No one recalled a moment of saying yes
to hammer and saw, or anything else.
Each looked to the others for some defining
move—the way at lunch without a word
all would start to rise when the foreman
closed the lid of his lunchbox—but
none came. The senior of us leaned
against a peach tree marked for demolition,
seemed almost careful not to give a sign.
And I, as I am likely to do—and who
knows, but maybe we all were—beginning
to notice the others there, and ourselves
among them, as if we could be strangers suddenly,
like those few evenings we had chosen to meet
at some bar and appeared to each other
in our street clothes—that was the sense—
of a glass over another creature's fate.
A hundred feet above our stillness
on the ground we could hear a breeze
that seemed to blow the moment past,
trifling with the leaves; we watched
a ranging hawk float past. It was the time
of morning when housewives return
alone from morning errands. Something
we had all witnessed a hundred times before,
but this time with new interest. And all of us
felt the slight loosening of the way things were,
as if working or not working were a matter
of choice, and who we were didn't
matter, if not always, at least for that hour.
Mark Turpin
Listen to Mark Turpin read "Waiting For Lumber"
Slate.com
Go NOW to Favorite Poem Project
Americans Saying Poems They Love
Also, please go to RedRavine Keeping the Faith - by ybonesy
Beautiful photos and thoughts on healing and collective consciousness
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
 |
| From Savannah - Tybee Island - Sept. 2008 |
 |
| From Savannah - Tybee Island - Sept. 2008 |
unreal children
Blinded, the soldier
did not bend to read
the braille, machine gunned
in soft bones.
Nor did he feel or hear
a blood wet wind
blow the jungle red
and curse his human soul.
In cold calm, he dreamt
of a white jeweled continent,
where real children
danced on blonde cement.
And did not fall,
and did not melt,
like little yellow pools
in dark rice beds.
Judith Soucek Ritter 1970
for veteran's day, from the works of Judith Ritter
A New Cold
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Top Cat
This is so strange, I guess I had some weird code button turned on - but everything I have been typing has turned to symbols, I have NO idea what the bleep they are...
Anyway, it stopped, so...Here's the neighbor cat that perched on the old Honda motorcycle in front of Sion's apt. in Tucson...and here's some more photos from our brief visit to Tucson - Sion is doing great, we had a spectacular scenic drive and a good visit with him, us and Max-
-See photo album HERE - Summer 2008
PS the problem seems to be that my posting page has turned inexplicably to Arabic! I have no idea why or what to do about it!
This is so strange, I guess I had some weird code button turned on - but everything I have been typing has turned to symbols, I have NO idea what the bleep they are...Anyway, it stopped, so...Here's the neighbor cat that perched on the old Honda motorcycle in front of Sion's apt. in Tucson...and here's some more photos from our brief visit to Tucson - Sion is doing great, we had a spectacular scenic drive and a good visit with him, us and Max-
-See photo album HERE - Summer 2008
PS the problem seems to be that my posting page has turned inexplicably to Arabic! I have no idea why or what to do about it!
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