~ Note Ran ~
Twittering One
That even bats need rest, or how you
Create the beauty of your rhymes, for only you
Can do that.”
~ nightbat
My apologies, for my White Hat
I was wearing. Objective facts, figures, too,
Often overtake me. Of all my hats, Blue
Green, White and Red, Black (named
After you) and Yellow, I think,
For I fear, so I name each thinking thought
A color for my Top Hat’s malfunction.
My ensemble, now, tailor meta-sized
For my pet lynx, Worn, prancing her nightly hijinx.
~ Greek Modes ~
Aeolian Mode
Dorian Mode
Ionian Mode
Lydian Mode
Mixolydian Mode
Phrygian Mode
Syntolydian Mode
~ Give them a twisted wrist, a flick
Of the wit ~
I remember this blow.
Also, I point out something to fall on the floor,
Another blow. Still this place,
This stealthy Disappearance of the Figure.
See just: The Second Place ~
Conference De Hitchcock: “Those Byrds, How
Do They Fly to Know?”
O,
Because reasons, the world, so complex,
An implication of seasoned inférences,
Neither an exception nor “data of direction,”
But a retinal line. A sight lined, plumbed
Down, drawn from
These inferences, until
The Detective
Memorized
His Manner ~ The world hurled back a golf
Course, 18 holes, par under 1.
Just more.
Or Science and Ethics, more seasons scientifically
Justified.
Topics discussed ~
Conference 1: Perception, Imagination
Conference 2: Reasons of the Science and the Perception
Of Ethics,
The Illustrated Language, The Science.
O just see: The Method of the Puzzler of Words
Who crossed my answer, employed
My already hardy
Fixed answers as indices for the solution
Of the more difficult enigmas disordered
To decipher The RANSOM
NOTE.
_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows. But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
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Twittering One
Pe Dance ~
The Im·PE·dance ~
A roundelay minuet 4-step
That delays or prevents progress, or the prevention
Of progress (particularly on a formal
Occasion). Opposition, as a dance partner
Dancing the Tango, somewhere
Off the coast of Crete, or Acapulco,
Resulting, if danced properly,
In a circuit stoking the flow of an alternating
Current, a central component resistance
And reactance sparking a dynamic fusion,
Or frisson. Symbol Z. The report/ratio
Of the acoustic pressure in a medium,
Air alchemized to Aether,
At the speed of the particles, transmuting
The medium.
~ Autre Dwight,
From “The Sorcery of Art”
~ Annotated Annunciation ~
A fluffy white dog greets me
Until Never Ending’s begun ~ A signal
To incite
The moment.
Leonardo, yes, my pride, my joy,
My source,
You explained to me, for me to know,
To understand
My malaise de esprit. O low! Yes, my heart
Unmended sheds crocodile tears.
For remedy,
Only temporary, we toured a gallery,
Visited the historical houses restored, merely
For the Pleasure Principle.
And now, with more
Time to void, we carry out our excursions ~
So
Prepare the galleried halls!
Carrying out
The message
To that small crowd, now gathered to applaud.
By my word, yes,
Prepare a short narrative outline
Of what encouraged us to throw a tear-stained
Kleenex overboard.
Know ~ A special kind
Of manners ~ an experience ~ of voyage ~ wait
Not another day, facilitate facile facility
On the intending leave.
All the goals
Accomplished, loitering by the river’s edge
I saw a carefree man stroll
Along the edge of shore’s. Alarmed, concerned,
Knowing that I knew him, I
Said,
“But don’t that you see?
I explained your history, and you became mine,
And now I sit down for the libre,
Again to read with you.”
Delighted by what
I said, I slowly turned again
To the history,
Where dinner was ready.
O, to be useful,
I lamented to myself,
Aimlessly watching
The preparations.
Meanwhile,
Mum elsewhere, she anchored
Each corner of The Was, yes, she anchored
Yesterday with a large stone monument,
A grave stone, she explained to me,
To lime the hangar of tears
Per time inclément.
Even now, the street
Starts, shows the potential. Just yesterday,
I carefully recorded a sight of the Goldfish swimming ~
Yes, Goldfish swim in my Pool of Tears,
As each day I swim into his depths,
So my character washes clean my memory,
Like my body, after running my 3 miles daily,
Requires cooling. But
O know!
I fought
With my speed, because
I entered
The unencumbered
Waiting room too easily. Me waiting,
Too empty,
My spirit
Of all undrafted images, sought for something
Here, hand-tooled platinum, a diamond stone,
Tiffany perched,
As my soul, perfected, knew
Your inner space redecorated my exterior,
Regenerated
My interior design with something Zen ~
My open space sparkling now as
Perrier
Sprung water!
~ Snippity,
Zip ~
“It is not, however, from the shore
That Turner usually studies his sea.
Seen from the land, the curl of the breakers,
Even in nature, is somewhat uniform and monotonous;
The size of the waves out at sea is uncomprehended,
And those nearer the eye seem to succeed
And resemble each other, to move slowly
To beach,
And to break in the same lines and forms. Afloat
Even twenty yards from the shore,
We receive a totally different
Impression.”
~ John Ruskin
From “The Slave Ship (Turner)”
From “Famous Paintings As Seen
And Described by Great
Writers”
(Dodd, Mead, & Company, 1902)
“To my friends: My work is done.
Why wait?”
~ George Eastman, inventor, d. March 14, 1932
“What we were doing was not merely making dry plates,
But . . . we were starting out to make photography
An everyday affair, to make the camera
As convenient as the pencil.”
~ George Eastman
The influence plays
Against
The rules,
Bound up in waiting confetti
Scattered over silken ruins,
Where light splays the mended window
And telling gathers a fire-stoked need to hear ~
Where a readiness to listen neatly
Unfolds, and small animals gather around
The fire. Who’d of thought
That snow falls?
Light scaffolds
The window ~
An accidental touch, your finger’s grazed reach,
Recognized as intended ~
The breaker’s swift
Retreat
Eroding sand beneath the arches
Of a feigned conceit.
The well
Of interior space
Spiraled from my obsession,
Drew me forward, your invitation, your private
Estate, where my soft-spoken protest
Dissolved my one structural support
Left standing.
We were clearly
The architects of record, despite
My insistence
That here, too,
The plan of my room
Dissolves
Where the ambiguous edge
Flows from water
And traffic noises diminish, buffering
The distance. Calling cards came,
Stung me with their arrival, their presence,
Their mysterious presents. Each night,
More offerings
On my pillow.
I had been courted
Into The Court of Wonder, where the plan
Of Our Estate
Flowed from offerings
Courting me with their pleasure, drawing me
Forward through structural supports,
Barreled vaults,
Ambiguous as the edge,
Where the plan
Of our room speaks
Softly, drawing us
Deeper into
The
Chamber…
~ Zapped,
Over
Here ~
“It was the custom in the city of Haarlem
To honor the officers of these units
After their stint of duty with a sumptuous banquet,
And it had also become a tradition
To commemorate these happy events
In a large painting.
It was surely no easy matter for an artist
To record the likenesses of so many men
Within one frame without the result looking stiff
Or contrived ~ as earlier efforts invariably
Did. Hals understood from the beginning
How to convey the spirit of the jolly occasion
And how to bring life into such a ceremonial group
Without neglecting the purpose
Of showing each of the twelve members
Present so convincingly
That we feel we must have met them…”
~ E.H. Gombrich.
From “The Story of Art”
“All that in idea seemed simple
Became in practice immediately complex;
As the waves shape themselves symmetrically
From the cliff top, but to the swimmer
Among them are divided by steep gulfs,
And foaming crests.”
~ Virginia Woolf,
From “To the Lighthouse”
*
~ Some Famous Concert Halls ~
Royal Albert Hall
Concertgebouw
Boston Symphony Hall
Beijing Concert Hall
National Concert Hall
Royal Festival Hall
Tchaikovsky Concert Hall
Perth Concert Hall
Carnegie Hall
The Rudolfinum
*
Place one spoon between your pointer
And your middle finger...