kooytotheworld.blogspot.com
Kooy to the World: A title? Whatever, nevermind.
http://kooytotheworld.blogspot.com/2010/12/according-to-my-nephews-chalkboard-and.html
Kooy to the World. Tuesday, December 28, 2010. According to my nephew's chalkboard and my math, between the three times I've taken the GRE and the 6 schools I applied to I've spent $992 applying to Graduate school. Couple that with the four months I've spent unemployed and this may very well be the single greatest monetary mistake I've made to date. Everything is in the mail or already received so it is all out of my hands. Kooy To The World. Labels: Dear Grad school: I hate you. Kooy To The World.
kooytotheworld.blogspot.com
Kooy to the World: fArt Show
http://kooytotheworld.blogspot.com/2011/10/fart-show.html
Kooy to the World. Saturday, October 1, 2011. Each time I've gone into Sue's I've been told that many patrons have commented fondly regarding my sculptures, which makes me feel pretty good. Also, I've sold more than $50 in small sculptures and have received three requests for commissioned pieces. I usually call it a 2-D wire sketch. Kooy To The World. This wont get you into Grad School. VICTORY (this is best shouted in a crowded theatre at the top of your lungs with tears streamind down your face).
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: Longing for the Deep
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010/08/longing-for-deep.html
Longing for the Deep. He found her crouching in the ice plants on the cliffs of the sea. Her skin irredescent as the sand as it slips through your fingers. Hair, whipping wildly with the wind as it rushes up the shore. The color of the sun as it drinks the vast blue lifeblood of their small island. She did not shutter as he approaoched, though his presence was formidable. She simply reached for the water with the longing of a drunk after wine. She fought at first, but then lost her will quickly. He watch...
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: November 2010
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html
A Train at Night. I like the train best at night. I hide my face under the curtain. To foil the glare. From scattered reading lights. In an otherwise dark cabin, and. Press my cheek to the cold window. All the world is in shadow;. School the night in darkness. I spy a planet, orange and unwavering. In the charcoal sky. On a cloudy night, like this one,. The lighted blotches on the lid. Hint at cities nestled. In some hidden valley. Wisps of red light fly by. At the crossings,. I am a quiet voyeur.
kooytotheworld.blogspot.com
Kooy to the World: October 2011
http://kooytotheworld.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html
Kooy to the World. Saturday, October 1, 2011. Each time I've gone into Sue's I've been told that many patrons have commented fondly regarding my sculptures, which makes me feel pretty good. Also, I've sold more than $50 in small sculptures and have received three requests for commissioned pieces. I usually call it a 2-D wire sketch. Kooy To The World. Links to this post. This wont get you into Grad School. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Kooy To The World. View my complete profile. Happy Birthday Emily Bronte.
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: January 2010
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html
If you wonder where i am. If you wonder where i am. He'll tell you my mail has piled up. Packed and bursting into my sad copper bin. Sitting in a row with all the other apartment boxes. 210, 405, 108, that one's mine. Not sure where she's got off to," he'd say. By the looks of this, she sure ain't here.". Stuff, stuff, cram and shut. If you haven't found me yet. He runs the little market. Next to the taco joint and the dry cleaner. He's seen me walk in with cloth bags. All sure and unconcerned. I think i...
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: January 2009
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html
She speaks to me. Every day I hear some new aspect of her being, crying out to me. She wants to be written. She wants me to tell her story. The layers of my life: a memoir in the making. This is a project i began in the summer of 2002 with my grandmother, Barbara Helen Seufert. She passed the following February before she could take me to her. Dominican. she did make one thing very clear, however. she wanted her memoir to be called, The Layers of My Life. And so it shall be. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: June 2010
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html
Why are your hands so soft? She pulls at her loose skin quizzically,. Pondering the blotched olive crests. That fall slowly, but never completely. Then, just as slowly, her eyes fall to my hands. Pink and iridescent, freckled and slender. Angled and extended near hers. Now, those are young hands. Then back to her own,. Funny how that happens. I wait for something eloquent or profound. To say, or even something funny. But, nothing could be simpler. Her hands are old. My hands are not,. Well, not to her.
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: young hands
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010/06/young-hands.html
Why are your hands so soft? She pulls at her loose skin quizzically,. Pondering the blotched olive crests. That fall slowly, but never completely. Then, just as slowly, her eyes fall to my hands. Pink and iridescent, freckled and slender. Angled and extended near hers. Now, those are young hands. Then back to her own,. Funny how that happens. I wait for something eloquent or profound. To say, or even something funny. But, nothing could be simpler. Her hands are old. My hands are not,. Well, not to her.
sibyllinebard.blogspot.com
Sibylline Bard: August 2010
http://sibyllinebard.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html
Longing for the Deep. He found her crouching in the ice plants on the cliffs of the sea. Her skin irredescent as the sand as it slips through your fingers. Hair, whipping wildly with the wind as it rushes up the shore. The color of the sun as it drinks the vast blue lifeblood of their small island. She did not shutter as he approaoched, though his presence was formidable. She simply reached for the water with the longing of a drunk after wine. She fought at first, but then lost her will quickly. He watch...
