Little Goat.

Bohemian Owl.

SF Street Lights.

Sushi night at Sanraku.

Dad drawing.

Drawing by Borges

The Art of Poetry Jorge Luis Borges

To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.

To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness--such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.

Sometimes at evening there's a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.

They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.

Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.

The post Thanksgiving cleanup

Happy Happy Birthday JENNIFER!!!

2005 Birthday

1979 Birthday Bash

HAPPY 61 DAD!!!

I have been spending more time than usual in the kitchen. Nick built this perfect little table and cleared out all the painting we had stored in here.

I made Day of the Dead bread earlier this month.

My next goal is to make Santa Lucia bread this December.

One loaf at a time.

Chuck Close at SFMOMA, Worked on fixing the computer, Clement St., Scratchers, Wood frames for pencil drawings, 6th Ave. Aquarium, Groceries, Big Bag of Birdseed

Roll up more mystery.

ANYONE LIVED IN A PRETTY HOW TOWN e.e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that none loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nerves they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died I guess
(and no one stopped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Laundry Day

Happy Birthday MOM!!
Yesterday would have been your 67th birthday.
I love you!

BROADCAST - TENDER BUTTONS

http://ramonbloomberg.com/html/rb_tender.html

GATOS-em-APUROS

http://media.putfile.com/Gatos-em-Apuros--Funny-Cats

http://www.bl.uk/sounds/wildlife/mourning_dove01.ram

Christine Wilcox Ackerman 

Some recent beautiful paintings
by Nick Ackerman.