Out There

Out There

There’s frost sparkling on the lawn chair.
I do not dare go out there,
in my boxer shorts.

Picture me, or you, turning blue.
Puffs of steam float out our mouths.
Most birds up North have gone South
or just now pass overhead wondering…

“What are those humans doing down there?”
Well, we’re sipping coffee
in our underwear.

But of course not!
There’s frost sparkling on the lawn chair.
But in the spring, I’ll be there, half-bare,
coffee steam rising to boost you home.

Gregory Zeorlin 12/1/2016 @ 7:45am

SHARE this poem if you wish….

Noise

Well, noise….Sometimes you have to make a little. But you must know when to stop, too.

listen to the crow sing

listen to the crow sing

Heaven Wrapper

Click on birds to watch video

Click on birds to watch video

 

While sitting in a parked car I watched two birds dodge traffic in pursuit of a fast food wrapper. I grabbed my camera to record their behavior. While reviewing the video the account of God taking care of all the birds on earth came to mind. Then I imagined a conversation happening between the two birds as they pecked at a junk food wrapper. One of the birds asked, “What kind of God drops junk food wrappers from heaven?”

I turned their observations into an unpolished 45 second video titled “Heaven Wrapper.” I urge you to watch it and reblog this post so others can watch it. When you do it lets those two birds fly around the digital universe. Who know where they might fly?

Use this link to watch video on You Tube: http://youtu.be/78AcuiNgbjw

 

 

 

Words And Noise

I was recently in Chicago for about a week visiting friends.  I live 800 miles away in East Texas, which is a sharp contrast to this big city.  Visiting an unfamiliar place presents new welcomed stimulants for my brain to process and categorize.  For brevity I’m making two stimulant categories; that which annoys and that which invigorates. 

In Chicago, standing near the “L” train and hearing the thunderous echoes bounce off buildings is initially invigorating.  On a daily basis this could become annoying and deafening.  Those who live around recurring stimulants learn to selectively filter the sources.  At my friend’s comfortable residence, sitting on a third floor balcony overlooking an alleyway seemed surprisingly quiet even though I was in Chicago.  I didn’t dwell on traffic noise coming from Lake Shore Drive.  The sounds of the trains and buses passing were even captivating.  I took sounds from the city and created a romanticized symphony in my mind.  If I lived in Chicago the composition would certainly change. 

Back home I hear birds singing near the back deck.  Their songs blend with vehicle noises coming from a highway one mile away.  This muffled traffic noise annoys me even though it is not as loud or constant as in Chicago.  To top it off, a house across the creek behind our wooded lot has a pack of small hyperactive barking dogs.  I wonder how those dogs have survived the coyotes, owls and hawks.  But the irritating dogs have thus far not become a wild creature’s meal. 

Waves of sound are categorized differently depending on the time and place of encounter. Noise is often sought for it can block out matters which might be easier to ignore.  The strongest noises often originate from within. 

Writing can be similar to making noise, with each word becoming a sound the writer makes.  My recent writing has made too much noise, but sometimes I can still hear a song.

Expounding the Confounding

I recently showed images of my newest art to people who do not make art.  As I showed the images I talked a little about how the series of 12 small paintings came about.  While brief comments are included with each image on my website, those comments are more like two or three sentence micro-short fictional stories about the art.

The comments I made as we clicked on images were less poetic and more direct.  While the others got a sense of what the on-line statements implied, they appreciated my candor as we viewed a computer screen with my website.  They encouraged me to add some of what I told them to the website.  I decided to post it on this blog.

The series is about the process of sorting and assessing the stuff that is amassed during the life of a married couple.  Once they die their children have to decide what to do with it…Who gets what, how much?  What is saved, tossed, donated?  In the task of uncovering decades of things you learn a great deal more about that couple.  It’s all confounding, difficult, amusing and unavoidable.  Ultimately, it is a freeing moment… One cannot avoid evaluating their own priorities after confronting the contents of their parent’s home.

I’ll go into detail on one painting from this series and let you interpret the rest of the works.  View the artwork titled “Scatter” that is pictured below.  (Click on image for a larger view).  There is a male figure (one of my brothers) wearing overalls who is running towards the back of a large structure.  The figure is inside an industrial sized dumpster.  There are images of things flying in the air bound for the dumpster.  Notice bike parts, documents, food packaging, broken furniture, etc.  At the bottom of the image a series of birthday cake candles are burning.  At the top of the image birds sit in trees to observe what is happening.  Those birds were in the trees behind my parent’s home as we went through the contents of the house.  My parents loved feeding birds and growing flowers.  The piece titled “Scatter” presents a moment of  transition all the living eventually face.

"Scatter"