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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/466953-Guitarman-a-gift-for-Gary-Aaron-Marables-art
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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
#466953 added November 7, 2006 at 4:01pm
Restrictions: None
Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art.
Birthday poem for Gary Glenn; poetic line prompts from Yusef Komunyakaa; comments on the opening of Justin Marable's art exhibit at the Olive; images of a full moon sky; a beautiful senryu by Prosperous Snow; links to visit Mavis, our favorite former chiromancer.
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** Image ID #1134109 Unavailable **

            L'aura del campo           

AUTUMN: 2 Qudrat (5 November)

'é a lua,  é a lua,  na quintana dos mortos'
♣    Federico García Lorca    ♣


*Idea* MY THOUGHTS

... are best kept to myself! *Laugh*

*Leaf2* WEATHER

*Leaf1* 54º and cloudy where I am.
*Leaf1* 52º in Cleveland, Oklahoma
*Leaf1* 43º in Paris, France

*Leaf3* IMAGES

Images of a full moon sky:

No haze tonight, the moon is high, the upper part light grey, a center blotch of white, the southern edge much brighter; soft wisps of clouds move through its night, but do not block it; by moonlight I write black ink on white; the stars peek out, shy before its radiance.

*Star* DREAMS

I slept well last night. No big dreams nor nightmares that I can remember.

*Flower5* POULTRY

A football,
red and blue pompoms,
a hawk that is no bird. [163.421a]

How Fatima became a princess

Flax rope to spin
strong woven cloth,
wooden tent poles. [163.421b]

The gallery in front of Henry's Coffeehouse

On the phone pole,
nails to hold art
of droll cold hearts. [163.421d]

Glacial

And it is peaceful
under the clear moonlight; cracks
healing with the cold. And it moves
slowly, slowly
as the press of weight crushes
and carries the stone. Time's
lost below its depths,
until it reaches the breach of ocean's edge;
calving, calving,
scattering a glint of rainbows. [163.423]

Guitarman

         for Gary Glenn

The strum
provides a bass line, the voice
a melody, his heart
propels the beat,
holds it back today; tomorrow
will touch us in its own sweet time.
He hums
and stars respond with twinkles;
the moonlight dims and trees
begin to sway.
He weaves a symphony of salve
to heal with gentle rain.
He strums
the breaking of the night in twain. [163.422]

*Up* For Gary Glenn of Tulsa and Cleveland, Oklahoma on his 34th brithday, November 4th.

*Flower4* WRITING

Set up a book here at WDC to put my entries for 'Ao Hanada'.

Lines from Yusef Komunyakaa to be considered as prompts:

- like a young tyrannosaurus lagging behind his brain
- we butted heads till stars loomed over the redbuds
- who cradled pump shotguns like lovers
- she was a sheet of onion skin
- when my mother lifted the lid and uncapped April
- we were the night's slow dance
- the name Brown fitted him like trouble
- only to be amputated by the wind's white blade

*Reading* READING

Yusef Komunyakaa's 'Magic City'!

*Worry* BLOGVILLE

Really enjoyed Mavis Moog Author Icon's entries about palm reading and hypnosis: "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window., "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window., "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window., "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window., "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window..

I'm very concerned about sultry.

*Gift1* MY LIFE

Spoke to my friend Liz. Spoke to Jen at the library. Went to the campanile for the bell concert at 3. Read blogs, some Komunyakaa, wrote a little, responded at length to emails. The day was sunny and pleasant. I ate corn chowder and later in the day took my medication. An okay day.

But Saturday night ... went to an opening of an art exhibit by Justin Marable at the Olive.

*Gift2* ART AT THE OLIVE

Justin Marable does serigraphs of the rural Kansas landscape. He painted Highways 36 and 75 in gold on the chartreuse walls and put up images of Baileyville, Beattie and other places found in North-East Kansas, places I have been, having once lived and worked in Sabetha, Seneca and Hiawatha. The lonely grain elevator, church, post office, corncrib, car out in a field on a starry night (his favorite) are his subjects. Justion limits his color palette eliciting the pathos of black and white with surreal colors. He captures the emptiness and gives the impression that Man has merely left his thumbprint there, one that with time will wash away.

His brother, Aaron Marable, paints in oils. Aaron's tryptych at Henry's-on-Old-Henry-Street looms above and behind the baristas, a commentary on the Last Supper. Presently, he is exhibiting in the small gallery at the Lawrence Art Center. His focus is on humanity and all its eccenticity and flaws. With Aaron, the humanscape overwhelms and nature becomes a prop to the drama on the canvas.

A short slideshow of some of Justin Marable's work:

http://www.signsoflifegallery.com/artists/Marable/artist_marable.htm

His website: http://justinmarable.com/index.php

*Smirk* WATT'S GNUS

Saddam Hussein will hang? Hell, I can think of a few U.S. politicians I'd like to see brought up on charges. I find the timing suspicious, but I don't like to dwell on consiracy theories. It makes me far too bitter and cynical.

*Gift5* TREASURE OF THE DAY

Intentional odes,
accidental poetry
September lovers.


found in Prosperous Snow celebrating Author Icon's blog entry: "MagicOpen in new Window.. I find that this senryu evokes deep emotion in me. You?

*Shock* POETIC QUOTE

'We were a blur of denim snagged
By berry bushes at the crossroad
Of an owls' sililoquy.'

from "Halloween, the Late Fifties", Yusef Komunyakaa

** Image ID #1134108 Unavailable **
 Kåre *Leaf4* Enga

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