Wednesday, April 20, 2016
I pass through a nondescript car wash
on my way into work each morning.
Although it functions, it's rather dilapidated
and faded. There's no accounting for
some of the things I've seen in the half dozen bays -
one time I saw a full-sized set of
mattress and box springs. One morning,
an engine block from a small car lay
on the floor of another.
Most mornings, I find myself
fascinated by the way sunlight illuminates
the yellow walls. A few days ago,
the floor caught my eye; the seams in
the concrete angled away from
the wood-covered pit and tiny gouges,
made by the water from the pressurized hose,
seemed to dance in space.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Where would we, the collective citizens of
Earth's neighborhoods, be if all
the utilities ever do go underground?
No longer would we be able to post news
of neighborhood yard sales, "wanted" posters
for lost pets and/or humans, directions to
baby showers and weddings (often in that order),
cars for sale, and parties of all sorts --
Yahoo! Ain't it nifty! The big day's come!
Big John is FIFTY!
These poles have served us well; not only
have they carried news via their 'phone
and electric lines, they've served as
neighborhood news kiosks, posted with vital
messages made up from paper and pens
from a bygone era - the 20th Century.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Monday, March 21, 2016
Cocooned in metal and plastic,
I ride to work in a vaguely somnambulistic haze.
The sounds of cars hum and beep around me.
The engines don't roar anymore;
they purr and whirr, almost silent.
It's their tires I hear, sticking and
unsticking on the pavement.
In the gray haze, I see the colors of the lights
denoting the corners on shapes,
others signaling the red, green, and yellow
of the intersections.
And yet -- and yet, I hear spring,
sneaking through the industrialized
sound barrier -- robins chirping and singing
their own joy at the coming of another day.
P.S. A few days ago, I posted
some pictures from my visit to Nada,
a new restaurant in downtown Indy.
They liked the pictures and comments,
so treated me to dessert the other
night. Ahhh. I felt so spoiled.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
I try to always have my little camera with me.
When it's been left at home on the counter,
I've always regretted it. There's usually something
that crosses my line of sight I wished
I'd had it in my pocket.
Yesterday was no different.
I was on my way to the store when I saw
these cherry-like berries against
the light gray background of the
churchyard where they live.
They seemed like drawings to me,
scraggly thick and thin lines
defining the space in which they exist.
Lots of triangles.
In a way, they reminded me of drawings
and prints by John Dowell, one of my college professors.
I remember the time he showed his portfolio
to a batch of interested students.
It was a suite of lithographs he'd produced
for his MFA thesis. Based on the theme
of the gradual opening of a triangle, his words
and work has stuck with me for nearly
fifty years. I thought of him when
I took these little snaps.
One of his drawings, Just A Sign of Soul,
is shown below. I love it. Of course.
Friday, March 11, 2016
Returning home from swim practice
at Butler University, the bus
passes this neighborhood variety store
on North Illinois Street.
For whatever reason, I really
enjoy the artwork painted on the
In an era when the days of
homemade, hand-drawn signage
is long-gone, it's a pleasure
to see that someone has gone to
the effort to create such a personal array
of images to showcase their wares.