Early Evening on the Reservoir
Central Park Reservoir: January 16, 2014
Posts
A New Dawn
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.
First Strategy for coping with the nature of things as they are
The world is frought but I am not. Two Central Park Trees Falling in Love
On Being Led Down the Garden Path
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.
Expecting a Ferry
fer·ry /ˈferÄ“/ 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
Steps and Fireflies
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.
Negotiation
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
Finding Elffo
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
Vitality Drawn Thin as a Crack.
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
On the Nature of Context and Infrastructure
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?
Nothing Says May Like Lilacs!
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
Park Avenue Tulip Platter
There are many successful ways to serve tulips. One of the most popular is the Park Avenue Red Tulip Platter featured here in duplicate. Diners are warned, of course, to avoid taxicabs and to obey all traffic signals.
Yellow Tulips and an Afternoon Poem
It happened in a newborn moment sparkling with imbroglios of fortune catching you with snaggles, burying their burning tendrils in your palm. Where is the symphony, the opera and the rat-tat-tat? Would you settle for that field of growing grain? Stalks whiskered with morning dew, breaking the sunlight into laughter, your touch as dear as astrophysics. Yellow Tulips, Genus Sureptitious, 9 years old!!
We Need to Weed!
Stippity steppity stoop. I’m always out of the loop. Whatever goes on, If I’m right or I’m wrong, I’m always outside of the group! The other day I happened to say A thing or two About what we should do About saving the day. Not any old day, no, not any at all! This particular day that’s about to befall Us is laden with flowers and birds everywhere, With their pollen and tweets and their devil may care, And their buds and their twigs and their pre-summer sprawl-- We’ve seen nothing like this since the mess last fall! Before it’s too late we should mow, we should prune! We should spray, we should weed, and we must do it soon. Let it go till tomorrow And much to our sorrow The fields and the trails and the streets will be strewn With Petals! with roots! spirea! and yarrow! Central Park Italian Garden, Spring 2013