7.11.2015

Pluto Abandoned


Pluto Abandoned

     My own space journey has resulted in this close-in view of Pluto, 
once our solar system’s ninth planet but now considered merely 
a “dwarf”. 
     Poor Pluto… the little fella lies growingly derelict and dark, 
lonely and discarded. Abandoned by the rest of it’s solar system’s 
eight planets. Kicked out of the club, no longer welcomed. 
     This is likely a clearer pic than any photo NASA has obtained from it’s 
“New Horizons” spacecraft which, after traveling 3 billion (yes, billion) 
miles since it’s launch in January 2006, finally reached Pluto and sent images from its closest pass on Sunday, June 14th, 2015. 
     Well, at least, NASA and I still care about Pluto. 


4.16.2014

My Favorite Whistler


My Favorite Whistler

I first viewed works by James McNeill Whistler when I was young, 
during an early trip to Washington, D.C. At the time, I knew only 
of a painting of an old woman sitting in a rocking chair called 
"Whistler's Mother", and this because it was so often made fun of 
in Saturday morning cartoons. Whistler, therefore, sat on a level of 
serious artness matching that of Bugs and Yosemite Sam. 
Developing an early strong appreciation for art, the trip to DC 
exposed the real Whistler to me. Unfortunately I found many portraits 
by Whistler to be heavily dark, mostly black paint it seemed -- 
not so appealing to a youngster. 

However, Whistler's "Symphony In White No. 1: The White Girl" 
was just the opposite, whites-on-whites, bright and welcoming in 
windowless gallery. I fell in love with it and, after purchasing 
a small inexpensive printed poster in the museum's gift shop, 
the White Girl became a fixture of my life, this paper reprint adorning 
dorm rooms, apartments, and bedrooms. It's most significant spot, 
though, was in my childhood home, hanging just above my mom's 
electric console organ. Though in a cheap dime-store frame and 
rather small for the area of bare wall it inhabited, for me it was the 
dominating focus of the room.

So the White Girl has history with me. Have you ever seen the painting? 
If chance finds you in Washington, I suggest that you seek out and take 
a long look at "Symphony In White No. 1: The White Girl".

Mr. Whistler's mother will be glad you did.



Finding America


Finding America


Where is America? Where is it now? 
It's there, oh, I know. Out where the plow turns the spring earth 
in prelude of rolling swells of new grain. 
In summer's wind glow its amber veins; a golden Earth.

Where is America? Why does it hide?
Only a while ago I would glide its gravel lanes;
honeysuckle and asparagus wild
by the road. Fully I was its child, and thus remain.

I hear my land in the sinewy note 
from a red-winged blackbird's tireless throat in some near field.
From twentieth century fencepost perch,
his calls are breadcrumbs to aid my search till home's revealed.

Here's America. 'Twas here all along,
'though like a telescope's deep nightlong persistent stare,
my vision stays all keen, honed sharp and sure 
to uncurtain the green, gold, azure; to breathe the air.

I searched the cellars, and searched the treetops. 
Like a tractor's tow of ripened crop to harvest bins,
I pulled America from the chaos
and dressed it tightly 'round and across my wrinkling skin.


by Charlie Brown (aka seeknowbrown)




J'accuse

J'accuse