Photo & Poem Gallery

I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, 
Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name.

My shoulders broad, I can carry much.
Sticks and stones and dirt and such
Ideas that cross my mind.
Still I can carry more,
Your secrets, burdens, wishes for
The future, though the now unkind.

Sometimes the world weighs me down-

In the morning the city
Spreads its wings
Making a song
In stone that sings.

In the evening the city
Goes to bed
Hanging lights
Above its head.

"Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower."

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."

"Live each season as it passes, drink the drink, taste the fruit and resign yourself to the influences of each."
 

It stood. Not a window broken. Not a stone dislodged.
It stood when nothing else did.
It stood when terrorists brought September down.
It stood among myths. It stood among ruins.

To stand was its purpose, long lines prove that.

Elbows everywhere! From Bronzino’s portrait (c. 1530) of “A Young Man with a Book” whose gesture came to be known as the Renaissance Elbow to visitors at the Met’s Medici show with their arms akimbo as they examine the painting.  

                                     

An open door says, “Come in.”
A shut door says, “Who are you?”
Shadows and ghosts go through shut doors.
If   a door is shut and you want it shut,
     why open it?
If   a door is open and you want it open,
     why shut it?

Blue Skys

Blue skies smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies do I see
Blue days, all of them gone
Nothing but blue skies
Nothing but blue skies
Blue skies
From now on

Never saw the sun shining so bright