Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Stalking the waters of life, I tromped across the sea grass. Stickers everywhere! Foot by foot, squishing indentations into the wet sea-weeded sand. My soul is hurting for a kindred spirit, I am seeking for a shimmer through my heart, I am seeking an annuity of memories, I am catching at life with a pole and a lure. How do I trust these flutter things? this glimpse without a substance, these unborn wishes riding in, pulsing, panting, pulling at the reins. And there it is! The surf at last, pounding, pushing into the grass-riddled dunes. From the Southern Pump Station Block House, Central Park Reservoir ps: MISSION FOR THE DAY: SEARCH UP AND DOWN FOR AN ICE-FLOW (Iced over puddles count!) DISCOVER WHETHER OR NOT IT IS SUPPORTING ANY WILDLIFE (flora or fauna) IF SO, PONDER THE MATTER FOR AWHILE IF NOT, WELL, ADD SOMETHING! (a leaf, a stem, a pebble, a small pet). Finally, REPORT BACK TO HEADQUARTERS.

Amazing rail-walker survives jogging path trek without a single spot of mud on new shoes.  Eastside Reservoir jogging path

Tiptoeing through my fiberglass life, fearing a dent at every corner, training wheels wobbling, tattered and torn, the day wears on to a tricycle close. Well, I didn't change on purpose you know, I would happily have remained the same, hoping for a happy, homespun solution!

I find you in my mind again, not unexpectedly, but nonetheless I flee the shock of it. Ambivalent. We meet again In that very same synaptic gap And you are entirely different.

A traveling thought billowed into my mind (I had a sad little broken-bottle life, till then) Long beaches full of empty shells with six-foot rattlers, so I hear Water moccasins down there somewhere, too Spiders and roaches. Which is worse? Not a sidewalk at all in the county Photos stick together in the mildew sun Thirty-six story spacecraft under Climate Control. No looking further than the front way out No window washing, locking doors Bouncing about like a shot without a sling, My soul was on vacation, so maybe that was it. Something took a nip and a tuck out from my life So, I trimmed up for the season, and I sailed back home. I know I should have taken up a life of crime but, the threat seemed just too hollow. I see the animations on the edge of time The orbiters are swimming too close to the light. We are all of us moths, when the flight seems right.

Day filled with crystal windows, Double sided shadows, Bark wet from melting snow, Ready. Sap sneaking up the roots, waiting for a headstart incidental chance, Blossoms barely aware of themselves. It was the sunniest day. Dark travels, rolling across the empty highways, Sidling up to the day, Muddling up the after effects, Settling up the score.

Central Park Reservoir: January 16, 2014

It was just yesterday the skies were coddled grey, clotting in their pre-snow situation, waiting, waiting, maybe for dawn, with a new messenger at the gate.

The world is frought but I am not. Two Central Park Trees Falling in Love

Sept 21, 2013:  Eat 90s New York City

Conservancy Water Lily, August 2013

I heard about it a time or two, This particular path is big taboo, But what else is a person supposed to do? The entire garden is calling for you! There are blossoms! and Sunlight! and Forks to explore! and the Birds! and the Bees! It's too much to ignore! The leaves are so green and the scents are so nice, Sometimes the answer is, Don't Think Twice.

fer·ry    /ˈferē/ Noun A boat or ship for conveying passengers and goods, esp. over a relatively short distance and as a regular service. Verb Convey in a boat, esp. across a short stretch of water. Synonyms ferryboat - raft         (Quiet, now....let's not cause disappointment.  I mean, even if the ferry is seriously late, there is always the chance of a raft...) Harlem Meer in July 2013

The steps weren’t cracked so badly then, the summer when we met. I never did say what I wanted, since I thought it would all work out. What was said there on the broken steps with the fireflies and the early dusk? It was so difficult to listen! My mind turned away I guess. I wonder, though. if it could have changed the situation. I mean if I had spoken up.

Clutching after reality I make my way in the setting sun (Seeking out the unlit door, Paper bag rumpled in the corner, Old man hunching up the dirty steps.) I walk through the iron-studded door into the mythic sanctuary (Walls covered with metaphors, Banks of unlit penny candles, Stained glass.) I light the wooden stick from a nearby flickering prayer (Smell the old dust and new wax, Kneel on the seasoned wood, Listen for the echoes in the cubbyholes.) One for you, one for me, one for the middle ground

Once upon a time, in the near reaches of Central Park, there lived a very large Elf-Fairy. Confusing as elf-fairies are in general, ours has learned to answer simply to the call of El Fair the Fair One, or Elffo the Fair for short. Elffo seldom appears in person (during the day), since elf-fairies are so sensitive. For many years they were held in captivity until they escaped their original planet. Usually, they find a low-lying bush in which to dwell. Now Elffo is among the most lucky. The amazing Central Park Smoke Tree has made a place for Elffo under its inner most branches. For a few weeks each summer, Elffo can use Smoke as a Screen, and gaze out at the New York fauna at will. Only the trained eye can find Elffo the Fair! Can you find Elffo? If so leave a comment or an email and I’ll post your description of Elffo!

Meet Esquilito! Esquilito is a young theatrical arts student from the The Squilliard School for Modeling and Movies in Brazil.  It is obvious from the beautiful positioning, arching and transparency of Esquilito’s tail that he has been trained by our own Central Park Squiva.  Indeed, The Squilliard School is the latest Academy to be created by Squiva, who is the Artistic Director and Founder.  Esquilito has been entrusted with a message for us: My Dear Beloved Fans, admirers and members of the National Union of The Squirrels, I am disappointed to tell you that starting the Brazilian school has been ghastly difficult!  The existing training is so poorly conceived that it is all I can do to keep up my spirits.   But, I know Brazil needs my special talents, training, and artistry!  Please welcome my little Esquilito, who will be my liaison while I am away in these sticky surroundings.  Monkeys!  Yes... I don’t know where to start... Anyway, Esquilito is a very exceptional st

I crave that weary, empty cave Those unremitting ribbons of geology Those booming echoes drip by drip Sneaking down the cranial walls Etching with acid despair. I crawl into the water, weighted by the world Slipping into the muddy bottom Staring down the midnight eels. Vitality drawn thin as a crack. Do not inhale, don’t do it! Do not drown in watery inches! Wait for one more morning sun Shafting through the silting creek beds, Dappled with leaves and colored stones. Green with Garden Hose

There once was a leaf named Horatio Who was looking around for a way to show How grand he would be in a color photo. Leaf loved his gorgeous physique and technique, Leaf was certain his hue was unique, what mystique! Leaf was strong not dependent not weak, but a sheik! All alone On his own He had grown. Take a photo of Me, said he, not the tree! What good is a tree to a Me?

If on your travels today you stumble upon a lilac, breath deeply and remember another spring day, almost like this very one, when a lilac walked into your heart. May Lilacs in the Conservancy Gardens, Central Park