A series of hello's and goodbyes.
First, the initial tug.
Heart strings tight
And hope as gold and warm as the sun.

Then talks late on the porch,
Chips of ice, and blisters of conversation.
Accidental meetings and frost days.
You have become my friend.

Lightning strikes, and flannel blankets
Keep us warm.
Your eyes light up when the light falls.
I like your freckles, and your blunt cheeks.

Then I move far away, and you as well.
And we try to write but letters are not like
Freckles and cheeks but become
Tears that accompany shadows.

And everything is dead again and light--
Is there but not in you.
And our creek is gone and mud is in its place.
Mud,instead of sparkles in your smile.

Wherever you are, you are in me.
But not you now, you who was.
Stamps and scratched out sentences.
You don't say it anymore.

But lightning and rain on summer nights
With runs in the woods and sallow arguments.
And lips where only the stars could see,
Mark who you are. Then goodbye.


Artists of the Past

Let's look back and celebrate. Not just painters or poets or musicians. Maybe all of the above. Here are my top 3 current favorites of the past. It is hard to choose, but I think I can manage. Thank you, for your generations of inspiration.


This is my favorite painting of Renoir's and I am looking at it in my room right now. I think Renoir looked into the future and saw my sister Jessica and I standing on a Sunday afternoon by our cherry wood piano. Jessica plays the music and I sing generally, although we take turns and usually do a bit of both. I like to imagine that there were two sisters just like us, the brunette singing and the blond playing the piano, and maybe they loved each other as much as we do. Maybe. Thank you Renoir.

Matthew Arnold:

Arnold is not given enough credit. Yet out of all of the poets I have studied this year, he may have touched me the most deeply, and inspired me maybe even more than Wordsworth or Tennyson."The Buried Life," is my favorite, because I understood exactly what he meant about humanity and society.

"But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep within us-- to know
Whence our lives come and where they go."

And his unspeakable desire; "And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know." I completely understand that frustration. Thank you Arnold.


I love you Claude. Your music, reaches to the depths of my emotions, to my soul really, and connects my heart with my fingers. You make me feel like all of my hard times and bad experiences are made better in the humble yet potent trills and rhythms of your work. First Arabesque is my most favorite to play, but Clair de Lune is tied with Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun of my favorite to hear. I hope to live, breathe, and eat your work for the rest of my life. Thank you for years of inspiration Claude. I kind of love you.