stop

zion. november 2009.

looking down

zion valley floor, from angel's landing. november 2009.

canyonland dusk

bryce canyon. november 2009.

the pattern on the rim

san francisco. july 2010.

some really good soup.

heavy sky

san francisco. june, 2011.

boat races in the rain. one of those days that starts off greyish and then starts to pour on you. miserable, and yet fun. certainly glad to be a spectator, but it made me miss crew nonetheless.

oaks

west of red bluff. july, 2011.

moving fast past a still life. my favorite road, to camp.

lampshade

san francisco. august 2011.

i just invited 90 people to my 30th birthday. oh boy.

on a cruise ship

fort mason, sf. august 2011.

riding home after a silly movie with friends. dressed up for no reason other than it's fun. a red plaid dress, a red ribbon in my hair. ...i think i'll wear a skirt tomorrow, even with the morning fog.

love,
arly

pulling that kite behind you

milan. may, 2006.

table and branches, bones

sonoma, ca. february 2009.

the bay, below

marin headlands. july 2011.

into the dark abyss

marin headlands. july 2011.

an updated version of my last poem.
more to vance's style, i think.

When I awaken early

from the pre-dawn light

and reluctantly rise (before the rest),

I look at what surrounds me; 

I lay my eyes against objects simple and profound

and write a poem with my eyes and what they see. 

When backlit clouds prism rays into every shade;

When bare pine branches reach down

to frame sections of sky,

I am reminded that, although
there are no new words to use,
somehow each dawn is yet unthought.

When I awaken to the new day's light upon me,
I follow its caress
on rock and stream and branch;

I exist within a landscape of untouched woodland,
of hidden watersheds deep in the hills.
I face the dawn and shine my joy upon it.

grasses

marin headlands. july 2011.

shadows and light

marin headlands. july 2011.

my favorite landscape

route 36, between red bluff and wildwood. july 2011.

on the way to the camp bbq. surprised there are even street signs out there.

dawn

 

When I awaken early

from the pre-dawn light

and reluctantly rise (before the rest),

I look at what surrounds me; 

I lay my eyes against objects simple and profound

and write a poem with my eyes and what they see. 

When backlit clouds prism rays into every shade of blue and pink and yellow;

When bare pine branches reach down

to frame sections of an astounding, undigestible sky,

I am reminded that, although
this has already been described--there are no new words to use--
somehow each dawn is original and surprising and unthought.

When I awaken early to have the new day's light fall upon me
and am given the chance to follow its caress on rock and stream and branch,
it stokes my burning, crazy love for all that is pure and good in the world.

I exist within the dream and idea of untouched woodland,
of hidden watersheds deep in the hills;
I match the dawn's incandescence with the joy of finding home.

(a dark sky,) overexposed

23rd street, sf. july 2011.

walking home from ra's engagement party. happy for her, a little sad for me. feeling reconnected with some old friends.

triathlon that morning, afternoon swim adventure with family the next day--a full weekend. nice to have a moment to be quiet, to observe.

lighted door

san francisco. july 2011.

square crest

 

walnut grove, ca. july 2011. 

best vanilla its-it of my life. triathlon the next day. hot, but not too hot. a drive along the winding delta roads. a slower life, just outside the window.

orange staircase

23rd street, sf. july 2011.