a picture

Now Playing: Liszt's 30th Transcendental Etude--in my head. Syneva just finished her junior piano recital, and she played this piece. It was my favorite. Rocking, bold, noble chords.


Isn't she pretty?

















Here's something I wrote. This scrap of verse was written for the First Seminar class. One of the only things (well, there are more things that I like than just this) I like about the class is the fact that the professor accepts poetry for paper assignments. This particular bit was written when we were assigned to describe a "creative encounter" (whatever that means). It made me think of the constant barrier between the original inspiration and the actual product. No matter how hard you try, you often can't get words to capture exactly the ideas you want them to.


Chasing the Light
a creative encounter

Thudding on the screen through the May night,
One moth and half-a-dozen junebugs buzz,
Drawn to my desk light. I’m trying to write:
About Danielle, how we went swimming, shrugged
Cool water down tanned arms; how we chased links
Of tawny sunset, flared, aquamarine—
Borealis on concrete. Fan whirs. I blink.
Junebugs still rattle on the thrumming screen.
Remember: how the chlorine tasted, how
The water hit my forehead when we dove,
Hunting reflections of sun’s lyre. Light bowed
Across, ahead, but not beneath. A drove
Of junebugs still gropes for my nightlight’s glow,
While I bang meter, try to grasp light’s throe.