daily life/art/culture/justice and how they merge, clash, & play inside my northern state of mind (set in Hokkaido and Minnesota)
Photo: extra-long hopscotch pattern drawn by my son My son had a poetry unit in his class the past two weeks. His first poem he wrote was called Peace Poem. He recites it as thus: Peace Poem Love Hugs Sharing Taking turns Trains Traveling Peace The second poem he composed with me while we drove […]
And why not fight the power?, as my son suggests above in his thrift store find of the month and his Linus shirt. Those in power are typically pretty boring, from what I’ve seen at a far distance…and they usually have horrible taste when they re-design whatever building they purchased for some horribly unoriginal business […]
Yes, it’s now 6am. I’ve been awake since 2:30am. It’s not a bad thing. I finished another story in the span of two hours. Now it’s time to crawl under the sheets and sleep one hour before my son wakes. Outside in the garden, our strawberries, just blossomed, and our carrot sprouts are covered under […]
I came across T-chan, age 7, reading Robert Bly’s book, Morning Poems. He read silently, his mouth shaping out the words. It’s the first time I ever noticed him reading one of my books. It makes me wonder what else he has been reading when I wasn’t around. I am so proud of him. A […]