A Word About Collages
(Written for Wallingford Mad Poets reading, October 19, 2011) The collages on display are works I have been doing for the pa…
Collages
The Perfect Orchestra
Music of wings, of strong contemplation, of distant flute music, of fish supplication……
Halfway Through the Fast
I hear in the cupping of my ear from faraway a horse and rider deliciously enclosed……
Grief’s Feast
This is an independent collage, with no book cover in mind, that grew into its present form, taking on an almost Tantric symbo…
The Flame of Transformation Turns to Light
The strange, golden machine in the upper right was said, in the National Geographic …
Cooked Oranges
Of course Cooked Oranges sounds like Orange Marmalade, and then it doesn’t, or at least it seems to flitter back and forth, fo…
Coattails of the Saint
We can only hold to their coattails, each gust of wind a messenger, furling the edges and the hems. Hold on with all your…
Blood Songs
We barely imagine that indigenous peoples have individual lives, as attested to in this collage, whose subject this is not, bu…
Coming Round the Corner
The Moroccan in the djallaba has, by his step, just come from a meeting with his Shaykh, a wali of inestimable altitude, and h…
Psalms for the Broken Hearted
How happy are the happy circumstances of a collage, when somehow a setting becomes perfect for what’s set into it, or overlapp…
Staff of Life
With the whirr of a hummingbird, the staff of life rolls on.…
Malika’s Planets
All our cherished places as fragile and as strong as butterfly’s wings against a pure blue sky.…