FEBRUARY 2020Muralist Andrew Fearnside preparing for Birds of Burque Mural
See the Reveal March 6th!
Come party with us and raise money for a spectacular new mural on 12th and Mountain at LIttle Bird de Papel!
Andrew is designing and painting the multi wall mural! Plot Duckies is creating a QR code, stories, and website so visitors can scan the code and hear stories about and sounds of birds represented in the mural.
Our party/fundraiser for the mural will include various vendors, and a chance to test our QR code (bring your smart phone and test it out!)
SOUP IS LOVE PROJECT
Last Three Weekends to Complete your Bowls
Last 3 weekends to complete your bowls
Save the Dates!
Sale of the new bowls and serving up soup and other goodies.
100 Day Art Challenge is Completed
Finished for now, more later, be looking for the new art quilts for 2020
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This month marks the 15th anniversary of writing poetry with MaryMcGinnis, poet extraordinaire. Mary, like Homer is one of the great sightless poets. Of course, Mary has written 5000 poems and Homer only wrote two, but we don’t hold that against him.
In January of 2005, 6 months after the death of my poetry wife, I attended one of Mary’s Sunday evening poetry writing groups. I had known Mary from New Vistas, where we both worked. For the last few months, I had been dreaming in words each night and writing them down. They were all prose pieces, not poems, but they gave me the impetus to seek out Mary’s group. That night, we wrote and I still wrote in prose.
That very night, my writing dreams continued, only now in poetry. So I learned poetry by McGinnis osmosis.
An example of a Mary poem and one that I wrote at her table about 2 years ago
WHAT STARS DO
Your daughter bought you a battery-operated TV—
you walked her ten acres pulling
Mistletoe off the trees. Although you said you never felt
Like yourself, you finished a deck and built a stone room
Onto a sunporch. And finally found the perfect truck
For you to drive for the last two months
Before you died.
HOW WE SAVE WATER
We live in cold sweat.
All percolations of perspective lie
hidden beyond what water can reach,
silence, it cuts through threads of despair.
When the dark breath of envy scorches,
we ask the robin for dispensation,
trees can only offer communion of leaf sound,
the audacity we wish for, falls upon us like rain.
To walk on water leaves no footprint.
To wait for love, the only gift that gets us there.