Peter Behrens's Blog, page 503
November 2, 2013
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November 1, 2013
Michael S Moore: 89 Auto Biographies
"I am making a book consisting of the 89 "Auto Biographies" [http://www.mikesmooreptgs.com/autobios_2013_stan/index.html] plus 22 drawings of "Every House I Ever Lived in from Memory" [http://www.mikesmooreptgs.com/every%20house/index.html] to be published under my Wall Spring Press imprint sometime quite soon, September of 2013 most likely. Together these two series comprise an idiosyncratic, illustrated account of my life in cars, houses, and, increasingly, life experiences [for those interested enough to decipher the text] up to the present day. On the other hand, taking text as texture, there are close to three hundred little line drawings floating among the scrawled letters that should be pleasure enough." --Michael S Moore
INTERNATIONAL SCOUT II, CORAL GABLES
from Javier Reyes, in Miami:
'I found the Scout II parked next to Salvador Park Tennis Courts in Coral Gables. Developed by George Merrick beginning in the 1920’s, Coral Gables is lushly landscaped and wooded, with old oaks, mahoganies, Black Olives, Ficuses. It also has its share of exotic trees that Merrick had shipped from all over the world. Palm trees, of course, are abundant..."--JR
October 30, 2013
October 29, 2013
Jan Zwicky's "Prairie"
Prairie
And then I walked out into that hayfield west of Brandon,evening, late July, a long day in the car from Nipissingand long days in the car before that; the sunwas red, the field a glow of pink, and the smell of the grassesand alfalfa and the sleek dark scent of water nearby…I remember –now-- chasing something underneath the farmhouse table as a childand seeing the big hasp on the underside that locked the two main leaves: it seemedrough and enormous, out of keeping with the polished surfacesit held together, almost medieval, I was startled and a bit afraid; and lateras an adult, fumbling for it, blind, at the limits of my reach,how finally it would let go with a sharp jerk and the leaveswould sigh apart: but it was there,in that hayfield, that I felt some rusty weight in my chest stickthen give, a slow opening to sky— it was that hasp, I know it now,though at the time I did not recognize I was remembering,
nor, had you told me, would I then have known why. Jan Zwicky
"Prairie" appeared in The Echoing Years, an anthology of poetry and translation from Ireland and Canada.
