August 16, 2015 § 5 Comments
A steel wheel against a metal track.
a home movie traveling reel to reel,
each frame a snapshot
added to the archive of
or tossed to the wind
like yesterday’s paper
to blow unnoticed
along the curb.
August 9, 2015 § 5 Comments
Operating much of the time in the virtual world I forget how luxuriously slow a job done by hand using tangible materials is.
You thread the needle. Tie the knot. Stitch until the thread is short. Knot off, then repeat.
A thousand million times.
There is no shortcut, only time and technique.
August 1, 2015 § 12 Comments
Still, he is company, and someone has to cook supper. That someone appears to be Martha, who wouldn’t mind a little help, but when she requests her sister lend a hand she is chastised for having her priorities wrong.
This is the take on the story I got from my mother, not the Catholic Church, which came down on the side of the listening sister, not the one doing the work.
My mother understood that what Martha saw when she looked at Jesus was not a soul aflame, but a gaunt man in need of a meal; my mother sympathized because the role of Martha had been thrust on her as well.