How does a mind work?

My mind

scutters like autumn leaves

looking for words

under the boulders

separating hallucinations

from dry twigs

misty trees from spider webs

lonely words inside a secluded soul

flowing voicelessly in the river

of memory.


How can I spin

the words into silk?

How can my imagination

seed the clouds

rain spilling in torrents

washing over the obelisks and memorials

first try and second chances

and try all over again?


note: Mrs. Abstract and I are driving through the rain on the way to Oregon.

I’m currently reading Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles.


how to be original

In her book of essays, Nine Gates, Entering the Mind of Poetry, Jane Hirsfield explains Neitzsche’s Three Metamorphoses.

“The philosopher describes 3 stages through which the spirit must pass before it can truly serve”: the camel, the lion, and the child.

“First it must become a camel… to bear the weight of the world… enter into tradition and culture… and hardships of common human life.”

“Then the spirit must lionlike to slay the dragon of external values…”

“The lion too must give way, and become a child: only in the child’s forgetting and innocence can a truly new spirit come into the world. This is the beginning  of genuinely original creation, the moment in which the writer can turn at last  toward the work without preconception, without any motive beyond knowing the taste of what is.”


note: spring colors  


It’s Thursday

Yesterday Mrs. Abstract and I  went wine tasting at J Winery in Healdsburg and Mayo Family Winery in Glenn  Ellen. 


On the way back home we had lobster dinner at Meritage Martini and Oyster Bar in Sonoma.

I was admiring the tagine on several shelves in bram, a store at the Sonoma Square, downtown Sonoma, with claypot cookwares imported from Morocco, Egypt, Italy,and other places around the world.Image 



Today at our local there is an article about tagine and Moroccan wine pairings:


Moroccan wines take the spotlight at Napa Valley events


what is lent?

A mountain sleeps and rises

braces for storms, celebrates the forest

endures drought, suffers through fires.


Like the mountain

I learn to endure the thought

that life is transient.


I learn a little knowledge

in perception of beauty.


I learn to accept

life’s deep ambiguities.


Season of lent is here.

Time to turn the heart,

with humility, ascend the mountain


not to prove, but to receive

God’s teachings, poured abundantly.

The holy spirit dwells in our heart.