No room for regret or self-doubt in art, doubt but not self-doubt. The ship hauls anchor, the kerosene lantern flickers and goes out, voices in the pitch black swell with anger as shipmates mistake each other for enemies. The lantern spills, the pilot drops a lit cigar. Tragedy ensues and engenders more tragedy. If only the moon could see, if only the stars had been granted the power of speech. But the blind remain blind, the voiceless mute. The burning ship…… More »
Ocean like beaten metal removed from the cooling pail, mark of the hammer and tongs, the smith’s signage, grain revealed as by pressure of the baren in a Japanese print, substantial, bodily, color of agave, color of bitter medicine, translucent only when the waves rise up to break at the bar, fingered by sun to the texture of meringue or Verano glass. Miami is not famous for its seashells. This beach, continually eroded, is held together by…… More »
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