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Spring Color

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A week or so ago I realized it was time to bring my camera on my walks.  There’s not much color in the desert, and probably won’t be until after the summer rains, but things are blooming in the neighborhood.  Of course, I didn’t remember to take the camera immediately – the purpose of walking is exercise, after all.  But a few days ago I caught up with what is happening.

Rosemary has been in bloom for some time.P1000052

One of my neighbors has two young peach trees.peach blossoms

Another neighbor lets desert marigold grow between the sidewalk and the street.P1000047

On this walk I saw my first poppy.  It’s time to watch for their feathery shoots in my yard.  I don’t expect many because it has been so dry, but the seeds will be there for next year.poppy

Another Step on the Way

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The Bridge Outside Paley's Door

The Bridge Outside William Paley’s Door

Today I submitted the corrections for the printer to the publisher for Made and Remade, my book responding to William Paley and his Natural Theology.  The cover is in process and I hope to have an image of that soon.

Paley wrote:  “suppose I had found a watch upon the ground . . . the inference we think is inevitable, that the watch must have had a maker . . . .”   His book presents his case for creation by design, based on the intricacies of eye, ear, and other parts of the body and of nature.

My poems respond in many ways, including these thoughts on Paley’s watch, from “Time Past, Time Present”:

What’s the time on Paley’s watch?
Without hands it would still be
a watch.  It’s mechanism matters
to him: springs and metal, not hours,
minutes.  His present so long
past, timeless in comparison
with ours, has he a gift for the now
in which we’re timebound?

The realization of how different Paley’s sense of time and the watch were from mine was one of the moments that made my dialogue with his writing so interesting to me.

The Harbor Tunnel: a poem

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Hands tighten on the wheel as I descend
into grimy dim.  Some of the lamps
are out.  My skin feels damp.
Red lights, bright on the downslope,
soften on the rise.  I grope
toward common sense, the light at the end.

It has been a long time since I drove through the Harbor Tunnel in Baltimore.  I’m not sure what brought it to mind; perhaps I was thinking of images of descent in general.  For many years I lived in Philadelphia while my mother lived in Greenbelt, Maryland.  The Harbor Tunnel was the logical way to go, but in the early years going down in made me nervous.

As you can see, I wrote this partly as an experiment with rhyme.

Just Another Sunrise

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Of course there’s no such thing as “just another sunrise” since every one is different and largely indescribable.  The colors in the sky make our color names seem like abstractions.  This morning I was patient enough to get the sunrise at two moments.  After this we had a warm and sunny morning.

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Poetry in Las Cruces, February 22

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Do you remember when we celebrated Washington’s birthday on February 22?  This year February 22 is Poetry Day in Las Cruces, as one of the For Love of Art events that fill the month.  We are calling it “For Love of Lit.”

Where: Branigan Cultural Center, Swarz Room

When: 1:00 to 3:00 p.m. on Saturday, February 22.

Eleven local poets will read their work: Dick Thomas, LeeAnn Meadows, Frank Varela, Christine Eber, Tim Staley, Ellen Roberts Young, John Muir, Joanne Townsend, Gerry Stork, Sarah Nolan, and Joseph Somoza.

Come hear a variety of voices and styles, in celebration of the art of poetry.

Dick Thomas reads at the event in 2013.  Photo by Susan Gomez

Dick Thomas reads at the event in 2013. Photo by Susan Gomez

Second Anniversary Thank You

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Today is two years from the day I began this blog.  It has been an adventure for me, a learning experience, often fun and sometimes frustrating.  I began in order to publicize my biography, John Emerson Roberts: Kansas City’s “Up-to-date” Freethought Preacher.  I did make some connections and sell a few books through this effort.  Soon I will be using this space to do more publicity for my forthcoming book of poetry, Made and Remade, a set of poems responding to the God as Designer work of William Paley.

Those of you who follow and who regularly read this blog know all that.  Thank you all for your interest, for your “likes” and especially to those of you who comment – it turns blogging into dialogue in a very nice way.

The name for this blog was not carefully chosen; it came to me as a sudden inspiration, and I saw at once that it would stand for what I have made the subtitle: Two Sides of One Mind.  I may be doing poetry now, but I’m still thinking freely, and I am interested in conversations in both areas.  I promise more from both sides of my mind – at least for one more year.

Here’s another sunrise to suggest another new year.  These thin clouds are more typical of our skies than the big splashes I’ve posted before.

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Feast of Bridget

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It’s another marking point in the eight-part year, half way from the winter solstice to the spring equinox, variously known at Imbolc, the feast of Bridget, a fire goddess, and Groundhog day.  I prefer Bridget, because she is said to be the patron of blacksmiths and poets, a fiery combination if there ever was one.

In Pennsylvania they make a big thing of the groundhog.  But shadow or no shadow, we knew there would be six more weeks of winter.  The traditional day to plant spinach where I lived was March 17.  We liked to pretend that spring began in early March with the big flower show, but that only happened indoors.

Here in the desert, this is the beginning of spring.  I’m behind in the garden already, because there are still two plants, one tall grass and a chamisa, which need serious cutting back before they begin to put out green again.  I intended to cut them back in January, but I only got half way around the yard.

One of the treats of this point in the year is that the sun rises between the time I get up and the time I settle in to work at my desk.  This means that I get to enjoy some grand light shows.P1000030

This one came on January 31, as if to celebrate the Chinese New Year.  It is an added pleasure to have a new camera with which to –approximately–capture the moment.P1000031

Happy Birthday, Thomas Paine

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“The world is my country and to do good my religion.”  Those words could get a man in trouble in Thomas Paine’s time.  Born in England in 1737, he arrived in America in 1774 and quickly became a spokesman for the revolutionary cause, writing first “Common Sense” and then “The Crisis” in support of the American revolution.  Returning to England he got in trouble for his writing, “The Rights of Man,” and then got embroiled in the revolution in France, where he got on the wrong side of powerful leaders and spent time in prison.  When he returned to America, his more recent activities and his freethought views on religious matters obscured his contributions to U.S. Independence.

“The world is my country and to do good my religion” was a declaration that could get a man in trouble when Paine died in 1809, and this was still the case one hundred years later.  There was little reward for thinking beyond the level of patriotism and even less for godless “religion.”

Things have improved since then.  A future President is unlikely to describe Paine, or anyone else, as a “dirty little atheist” as Theodore Roosevelt did in a biography of Gouverneur Morris, American ambassador to France when Paine was in prison there.  First published in 1888, the book was reprinted in 1899 without change, an event which caused a furor of protest from the freethought community.

Then again, not speaking unkindly of atheists may be more a matter of politeness than of true understanding and tolerance.  Politics and religion are more closely involved than ever, it seems. Certainly the ability both to think for oneself and to think an issue through to its logical conclusion seems to be in short supply in the political arena.  The media use of sound bites doesn’t help.

Note: some reports on Thomas Paine now give his birthdate as February 9.  This is because the calendar was adjusted in 1752.  The English calendar had become off by eleven days from the Gregorian calendar in use outside of Britain and its colonies..  In 1752, September 3 to 13 simply didn’t happen.  The changing of all dates before that shift seems excessive to me.  In the peak of the freethought era one hundred years ago, January 29 was the day for celebration.

Poem for a Winter Night

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Night reflects day, not
innocent of influence
as a true mirror,
but with all the shading
of long acquaintance.

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My son gave me a new camera for Christmas and I couldn’t resist trying it out on a night shot.  Not bad for a beginner like me with a relatively simple machine.  The moon was past full, though it looks very round in this shot.

A Tanka on Memory

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The camera’s click
a snap judgment
determines what
will be recalled
after memories fade.

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The photo is from a trip to Greece long ago.  It has stuck in my head as what Greek islands look like (though I think the color of the sea has faded slightly).  I had to look at the back to find out which island it is.  It is Thasos, the northernmost in the Aegean Sea, not far from Thessalonica.  Why did I go there?  I can reconstruct that it was to see some minor monuments from my studies of Greek archaeology.  But this, the green slope overlooking the sea, is all I really remember – or think I do.

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