The path to mastery

Mastery.

that dedication to getting down on your hands 

your hair falling into your face

your feet grey with dirt

face sweaty

tired

discouraged

looking over at the athletic body a few yards away

mastery is swinging your left left around

without falling over

while keeping your torso high off the ground

and not falling over

this is the path to mastery,

the sweat, imbalance, and doing it again.

storm coming in

the clouds rolled in and I and pulled off the road to watch

blue sky turned to roiling darkness, the wind coming up

my windshield speckled with raindrops.

Bagels for Bike to Work Day

I never stop at the breakfast stations for Bike to Work Day.

Why, since I just ate the most delicious breakfast.

Today I stopped at the new bagel place, Wood Grained Bagels.

I don't like bagels.

They are heavy and calorie-laden and gross,

but why were so many people lining up on weekends -

I had to know, I could take a tiny piece that would be offered

and be on my way.

He handed me a whole bagel, still warm,

honey-maple cream cheese,

I was hooked. I took another.

I ate them both.

I like these bagels,

they will be my downfall.

#woodgrainedbagels

11:30 - 1:30 everyday

I look at his arms, more precisely
the definition of his muscles and how his arms
fill the sleeves of his shirt.
I found out that he's gone to the gym
every day from 11:30 - 1:30 even though
he's a highly paid vice president at my company.
I try not to stare or to make comments.
I used to hope he was single when I still was.
He's married.
I wonder if his wife likes his arms as much as I do.
I dont know if that's possible and I probably would never
have the chance to ask her, whoever she may be.
He's in my office every day to discuss the project I am leading
and I try not to look at his arms,
It's the hardest part of the job.

running

I passed her once and noticed the 

beauty of her hair swinging on every stride.

I passed her again, noticing her lithe legs,

her even rhythm, that she was engrossed 

in whatever her headphones were telling her.

She wouldn't notice that I kept appearing in

front and behind her.

I rode ahead and pulled out my camera,

head down, staring at the screen, waiting 

for her to pass so I could capture that

beautiful swing of her ponytail.  

Hauling wood

they could be anywhere,

in Slovakia, Slovenia or Cincinnati

France, Frankfurt or Philadelphia.

China, Chile or Chernobyl.

two boys hauling wood in a wheelbarrow

for a family to cook their meal,

for a summer bonfire to roast marshmallows,

are they rich or poor, no one can tell,

boys all over the world wear the 

same clothes, first, second or third hand.

mixed race, curly hair like a black person,

the light color of a white person, the fine

features of an Italian, they are everyone

and no one.

just two boys hauling wood somewhere

to somewhere for something.

(this is a picture I shot of the two Copeland boys)

Dancing capoeria

Braids and pigtails fly through the air

and legs and arms, they're dancing,

diving, kicking and smiling.

this is capoeira.

The beauty of a collarbone

her beautifully smooth skin,
fresh, her white teeth, her smile,
the faintest hint of fine peach fuzz
where the light graces her shoulders
and dances across her fine collarbones.
a summer frock, floral, blues and rose,
a delicate ring on her left hand,
the radiance of love.
Youth as it should be, full of promises,
of adventures not yet experienced,
roads not yet taken,
yet always knowing that there
is someone watching over her,
with some of the same freckles,
some of the same smile,
dimples made of the wrinkles
from many years of smiling
at her.

Dusk

She was alone, almost hidden behind the tall grasses,

her red backpack bobbing with every stride.

It was that time of day when the world is suspended

between night and day, this longest day of the year.

Two young men heavily tattoo'ed told me that

they had just seen a bear cub moments ago.

But we only see sky and grass, clouds and

a distant house, the forest and hillsides 

in the distance and a woman, alone, wearing

her small red backpack, heading home.

Alone in the field

a tree alone in the field,

no wait, there are sunflowers close by

and a cloud drifting by,

the sun is standing behind and a

forest is whispering, birds are twittering

before settling into their nests.

we are never alone, the wind caresses

our cheek and the sounds of people,

cars and trucks, birds, dogs barking,

at least one constantly surrounding us.

we may find seek solace in the darkest cave,

but there will still be water dripping somewhere,

the flap of a bat's wings, or the rumble of

thunder will reverberate within.

never alone, we must find solace in 

while being surrounded in sound.

what if

what if

there are really no words worth speaking 

about this single leaf basking in the morning light.

I could imagine the whoosh of water in the stem

or the crackle of photosynthesis in each cell,

but no words

there's no human needed in these woods,

nothing is pruned, trees rise from brambles,

the grass is high.

heavily laden seedheads bow the stems

towards the ground.

In Flight

The click of a camera lens and

This moment will never be forgotten, a 

Dragonfly in flight, double iridescent wings 

Lofting up and out of the garden.

I have watched children in flight out of 

The nest, perhaps a bit unstable at first

Then lofting to careers and loves,

To adulthood on tiny wings that have 

Grown stronger with every headwind.

The wings of the dragonfly look so fragile,

they are wings as strong as steel.

Our fragile wings can be as strong

As steel.

Photography school

I learned to look in the foreground,

to look for shadows and light.

I learned to see instead of just walking by

blind to beauty.

the teacher talks to me through the movement

of electrons and radio waves, through fibers

and ether, 

he talks to me from the other side of the world

where he takes photos of silhouettes at

an unknown beach, of unknown people speaking

languages I do not understand.

he is teaching me the language of seeing,

of touching, of appreciation of the

tufts of grass in the foreground,

the shadows that they cast.

that tree that I see every day

that tree I see every day is all of a sudden interesting.

at the base, a large bulbous structure sprinkled with 

sprouts on bark resembling elephant skin.

Two trunks reach towards the sky from such

an unlikely base.

Bella and I have walked by a thousand times,

but I never really looked, I never felt, I never

bothered and so I wonder how many times

I have never really looked, felt nor bothered

to really notice.  

The Plan

I don't do PowerPoint slides.

I only plan experiments and write them on the board.

I photograph them on my iPhone and put them

in presentations. 

I don't do Visio either.

I meet with Vice Presidents, I don't do

mid-managers or those who should be.

I'm a snob, an impatient intellectual

who can't be bothered to explain when there 

is work to be done, and no one has any better

ideas, they hardly understand the problem except

that they have to give a daily briefing to

the customer behind some closed doors.

This experiment has never been done,

stupidly never done,

so typical of the bureaucratic system that 

denounces science experiments when in 

fact, science is what saves us all.

Science is the closest we can get to 

pure truth.

Chase the Ball

Chase the ball,

it's flying through the trees,

still visible, a lime green orb flitting

through branches and leaves.

Run, it will soon fall to the ground,

almost impossible to find.

Run, chase the ball that is rising in 

front of you, catch it before it

disappears, before it is lost.

Catch it with your bare hands, your teeth,

your tail wagging, your heart

beating, not knowing what to

do with it, with yourself

once you've caught the ball,

the stick, the job, the opportunity,

your life.

Life is too short to miss the ball.

The First 500 miles

I stopped on the way up the steep climb

to take this photo,

Five hundred miles of sunshine and sorrow,

of exertion followed by the fastest descents,

the wind rushing by so fast as to bring tears

to my eyes.

I've seen forest and plain, been alone and

in the company of many, wheel to wheel,

leading until breathless, then falling back.

Five hundred miles, so many more to go.

Waiting for Mail

When the mail truck rolls up,

they open their mouths hungrily,

gagging on circulars, bills and requests for donations.

they are thirsting for a handwritten postcard from Paris,

or a lengthy handwritten letter from someone they

love,

to love is to write

to write is to love.

I found a lost fountain pen tonight

and will write someone I love in the morning

It may be you,

It could be you if you had a different 

address from your wife.

you know who you are.

My daughter and me

\

she sent me her picture and asked whether 

I thought she  looked like me.

I'd say so, when I was young like her,

so vibrant and fresh, both close to the water,

She sent me her dissertation and asked me 

if she were as smart as me, and I said,

yes, but smarter, so fresh and young,

your mind so quick.

She told me she was engaged now

and I said she was so far ahead of me.

she's be happy the first time around,

choosing a man with a generous spirit,

and handsome and smart on top of it!

she traveled for France and all I can say

is that I can speak French better than her,

I'm fine with that. 

sensitive

she closed the door.
this information is sensitive.
not secret, certainly not top secret,
but still, a need to know basis.

I noticed that she has aged,
that her neck, once smooth and taut
as that of a dolphin slipping through water.
I can tell I'm getting older, too.
I am just behind her.

We resumed our discussion and
I wondered at why this topic is sensitive,
until I realized there was a failure and
no one wants to talk about it.
I always want to learn,
failures are the way.

She looks damn good, though,
and I'm five years behind her.
I'll look good, too.

I'll be doing some work on this.
I know I should be promoted.

Friendship

on a summer evening

the two friends stroll along the dirt path

between walls of tall grasses.

one, short and greying

the other, young and slender.

one marks a special spot on the trail

as the other waits her turn to follow suit,

and when the young one wants to play,

she tries not to scare the small one too much, 

taking care to bark at a little distance

and not show too many teeth.

she sometimes jumps on the little one

but the overexuberance is quickly forgotten

and they resume their stroll along the path

through tall summer grasses, only dimly

aware of the hum of voices behind

them..

Their Announcement - my wishes for you, my darling daughter

to capture this moment in memory

(unlike our trip to the San Juan Islands)

I remember you coming into the kitchen to tell me,

showing me the delicate ring gracing your left hand.

me hugging you, me crying and hugging and crying.

you brought a bottle of champagne

We poured some into the two flutes for you and Chris,
ones that had been

gifts for my own engagement to the man I love.

I wish you such happiness and more, of being 

loved and accepted for all that you are.

I see the love in your eyes, the smiles,

the affection, the going forth into the world

together,

you told me of your travels together

along roads that were not really roads,

you will travel such roads 

hand in hand.

Noting

I never noticed the tall, spiked leaves of this plant,

Off to the right of the trail, underneath the giant steam pipes,

this monster weed

[note: weed is any plant that is undesirable per the viewer]

looked as if it could leap upon me and eat me whole.

I would never be seen again.

Good thing I noticed.

Paper flowers

Paper flowers do not fade

nor does the ink on the card which 

contained them.

they do not need to be watered en route

nor do their petals fall to the ground.

they are neat,

well contained

and inexpensive.

I sent them to my mother for her birthday

she loved them,

for that, they are worth a million dollars.

Dinner

so when he's not home to cook for me,

I manage.

plenty of antioxidants in wine,

fiber in popcorn,

minerals and water in watermelon.

I'm missing greens, I admit, but tomorrow

in the garden I will harvest turnip greens,

lettuce and kale.

It all averages out.

I'm getting fresh air and relaxation,

the neighbors stroll past the garden,

pausing to admire,

I love to watch them enjoy the 

fruits of hard work.

yes, a lovely evening indeed.

well fed,

nourished in beauty.

we eat at our desks while working

we eat at our desks while working,
I can see what he has for lunch today.
he has a kid and a wife and a new job.
I like him, but we are not friends.
we would be
if our time
was not billed out in
6
minute
increments
by the Corporation.