Category: sky

Watching Birds In Spring

During this time of chaos and turmoil, I find peace in the rough bark of trees, the dancing scurry of squirrels, the opera of birds, the sun on my face, the canvas of dark night and sparkling stars.

Pigeons

I’m an urban naturalist. That means that I love my city (Baltimore) and enjoy wandering around looking at its denizens-pigeons, squirrels, sparrows, starlings, seagulls, and the occasional cardinal and junco ( a sparrow size bird with white belly and black head). There is a pigeon roost near me-an abandoned building with concrete bricks that the pigeons adore. Here’s some pictures!

Watercolors Whirling

Lately I’ve gotten back into watercolor painting. The tree paintings were inspired by a photograph by my friend Sooyong Kim. I found a caterpillar pencil sketch from summer and decided to color it. The abstract came from testing colors on a scrape piece of paper but I really like it!

water weaves waves

water weaves waves
reflecting brick and weeds
window refracting sun
sprinkling light
on playful crests
weaving water waves

dreams and old clothes

Made a flag by sewing the legs of old martial arts uniforms. Here’s both sides.

Grace

Placid waves

wash warm

Over toes, knees,

belly to breasts.

Drink in sun.

Float

cotton-candy clouds

framing

rose,

lemon,

sapphire

sky.

DSC04746 3

After the Storm, 6 A.M. East 7th Street

DSC00680 Pale silver sky
reflects on black iron.
Fire escape raindrops
slowly illuminate
this visceral world.
Birds’ babble,
laughter
rises with mist
from the street below.
I smile and
close my eyes
in calm satisfaction.

I lie still
between soft, worn
cotton sheets,
above spring verdant trees,
mahogany branches,
as lemon glimmers
among
sapphire clouds.
I know the secret
of tiny mosaics
and that
magical
pink metal
laundry box
in the bathroom.
The fire escape ladder,
is my tree house
framed by wet-dark branches
and cobalt curtains.
The rain-bejeweled
fire escape
will take me
directly
to heaven.

6/3/2015

Spring is the time of death.
Look out the windows;
Mist and memory drift
from the verdant hills.

At road’s curb,
mangled
bat wing
slate sky.
I drive.
Death lays.