Red Shift, White Album: Wooden planks, light through a barn window, eye to the sky, women astronomers, new language, old songs, bouncing pencil, spacecraft.
Remember when we used to live together? Give me an inch and I will wax poetic. This inch contained the remains of two sea creatures, and their symbiotic calcium-white leftovers became a drawing meditation.
Rock with Interior Secrets: We mete out the details, cautious step-by-step, those of us who pray, who find ourselves praying.
Rock with a Mouth of Jewels: I sang a song to pass the time and, instead, it breathed new life into the day.
Ruffle and flutter: Furl and spatter, spread and wave, drift and scatter, slake and stave.