Saturday, November 20, 2010

Roost--wood engraving

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Wood engraving (like a woodcut)

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Urban anguish

Friday, August 20, 2010

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Friday, May 21, 2010

Gazing at Cuba

I turn and look deeply out to see--

struck breathless by the roar of the surf

I stand on an edge facing forbidden islands

struck lame in a mishap from another year

I wobble on an uncertain pathway

dependent on any that can catch me-

there are songs from the sea that I hear

scents that ride the wind

blowing from the south-

though I might have grabbed at the last moment

and pulled myself alive

I cannot tell what is the cord

that connects me

to that former person who first set his foot into traffic

or onto this shore

we gather down here to watch the sun

make its escape from this sky

I myself have disappeared a night or two,

breathed new life in a sunrise

and set out on unsteady limbs

to spy out what remains to be seen

collected or accomplished-

behind me I hear the scraps of songs coming from the bars

doors open

the rhymed words of old-time rebellion spilling forth-

pirates came this way for all we know

though they have been forgotten

and beg now for change on the main thoroughfare

my clothes hang on my frame

a ghost in the land of the walking

a hand-carved stick leads the way

across the streets into an old neighborhood

where everybody calls me by name--

my misstep has made me famous

in this cold season-

the sun lays a furrow upon the sea

that I might stroll upon,

a mis-aligned gait dancing toward

an ancient beach

discovered in the ocean

and painted to mock a last chance

though I do not know anybody on that distant island

I do not know that I fear it

I made a hesitant step in the direction of

death and pain and courage

but I caught little of the local language

I have only a few words

pronounced stiltingly--

I'll point at what I need

and trust the beneficence of whom I meet

wheels turn me, chairs on wheels

and vintage cars nursed along,

behind me parrots and downpours

cigars that will not dry out in the thick salt air-

giants walked here,

arriving by boat and plane,

a train trestled down the archipelago--

now a ruin in the sky, knocked out by a storm

tomorrow, and if not tomorrow

then sometime soon

I will step forward, the westward key,

having survived a momentary swipe

but not sure how-

though I take inventory and pat my pockets for tokens,

all my charms are intact-

I inhale and swell my chest

as I slowly turn my head

and look deeply out to see