Saturday, March 04, 2023

Poem for Saturday and Olympic Sculpture Park

By David Mark Jenkins

It is to the interfaces
we are drawn --

the beach, between sea and land,
the meadow, between forest and mountain,
the hospital bed, between life and death.

The interfaces,

where the wind
is always blowing.


It rained all day on Friday, which involved yet more laundry, a trip to the post office, and excavating the cabinet where I keep camera equipment, meaning I found my Coolpix 995 from 2002 -- the first digital camera I owned -- and several others, including my Nikon D50 which has now been gifted to a neighbor's daughter (it still works!). I also found lots of old cables, straps, cases, and the video cameras that made the first recordings of Daniel. 

We spent so much time organizing stuff that we ended up ordering pizza for dinner, then we caught up on TV we missed while traveling -- Mayfair Witches (season finale, Rowan as disappointing as she ultimately was in The Witching Hour), The Masked Singer (Pentatonix?), Quantum Leap (more domestic drama), and Kung Fu (I don't love the spirit realm battles). Some of the art visible from Myrtle Edwards Park and Olympic Sculpture Park: 

2023-02-28 12.13.39

2023-02-28 12.15.37






2023-02-28 11.40.33

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