Flocks I [M] Birds pass darkly migrating out of sight,sure in their way, living arrows for the austere heart of man.Like a field dreaming, birds rise gloriously against the sky,as morning brings its brightness. Daughters of the bright will divide the day with the...
Everything sang to us—: the pointed paintbrush tops of the cypress trees; the single palm; the dogs like clockwork each night for hours; the doves; the gravel walks; the swift scurrying lizards and the slow, armored beetles; the bats, swooping past as we walked down...
When I was invited to come to Civitella I was very involved in photography and film. Here, instead, I decided to work on drawings and collages. They were constructed over pages of school paper that I had brought years ago from Argentina. I loved those note books, they...
From: First_Vita_interview.wma (April 1, 13:04:20) Are we live? So, um, the president’s birdie is thick, like a thumb, and hard to find under the paunch and hair that make a nest for it to rest—or repose, if you think it’s better to be poetic when discussing the...
