Time

Tie me to the roots
where your hand grasps Spica
Tie me to your life line
Tie me where black is bland
and red is waiting
Tie my shackles to the seconds
Tie the melody to that vagrant heartbeat
Tie the words to the burned grass
Tie me to the rising tide
to the setting sun
to morning mist
to the winter chill
Tie me to the minutes
Tie me to the hours

Beyond the Visible Spectrum

Anne

In which I indulge my crush on Anne Hathaway, using images from Entertainment Weekly.

God rid me of god

A more eloquent discussion of a theme I've tried to express: that most so-called atheists are rejecting a particular definition, or image, of God. This gentleman goes further, to say that truly spiritual Christians refuse to put God in a box.

J.B. Philips a famous translator of the New Testament in the '50s, also wrote a book titled Your God is Too Small. My understanding is that he was trying to make the same point.

I'm afraid that most of the time my image of God is closer to the big Santa in the sky that to the Tao that can't be spoken. At least, this is the image I presume others have of God — and I suppose this judgment is closer to home, that is, what I fear is in my own heart.

Magi

Left to right: Melchior, Balthazar, and Casper
(jac, Kent, and Tiger)

Idée d’jour

Whatever may be wrong with the world, at least it has some good things to eat.
— Jack Clement, quoted by Roy Blount, Jr, in Oxford American Music Issue 2008, now on newstands.

Xuefei Yang

I learned of this video through the Jan ’09 issue of Acoustic Guitar. Ms. Yang is playing a Greg Smallman, the guitar featured in the "Great Acoustics" section. The appreciation is written by Adrian Legg, no slouch either.

My search lead me to this video, which brought tears to my eyes.

Shadow

DJ's Aunt Shadow, as the star she was always meant to be.

Andie

Thanks to some on-line instruction, I'm closer to achieving the "Warhol" effect. I think.

Talking Post Trauma Blues

Song by Tom Smith; video by a veteran of the Iraq War.
Helmet tip to Brother Dave

Honeycomb Tea

Honeycomb foam floats
as a head on my green tea;
I float into winter morning.