Wednesday, February 28, 2007

wilmington, delaware: straight up architecture

What you don't see in this picture are the quaint streets of old
Wilmington, a few short blocks away and in the shadow of this
and all the other recent building bustle of one of American's least known
little cities (pop around 72,000) There are condos. There are theaters. Yes, there
are banks. And cool-ass european curtain-wall design? Why the heck not!?

If you're driving through Delaware, which we do a whole lot in this
region, check out this building, where 95 makes a little dip into town - an
architectural sweet spot in an otherwise forgettable drive along the
corridor from New York to D.C.

Also remarkable: Newark (no, the other one) - WHO NEW ARK?!
University of know those college towns.. this is
a cute one. Good food especially if you'd like to avoid a cinnebon
at the Flying J.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

I trace the circumference of a teacup
with the finger that is sometime a nose
and in time to say enough
some how
her little quick
sees a bird and remembers
those sweet cat battles
war on wasps
and the silent somewhere tears are kept

in sorrow I nod to her
and she nods
and she blinks in her alright, dear friend
and comforts me once more
without question

lovely green eyed queen of curiosity
a little grey, and I am now the wiser
flickers to her quiet end


Tuesday, February 13, 2007

want for winter

eyeing errant flakes with suspicion
and a warming contrast between a tepid heart and
full lace, frozen esctacy
for those who might ski

in a moment the cat might flick a paw at snow
then sway in tender rumble for the passing hours
on a radiator

and I smile at what winter wants for me

Sunday, February 04, 2007

sometimes there are little messes and doll collections

Garland Lily had black shoulder length hair, capped teeth and a mustache that needed bleaching. She was tired and overwhelmed by managing her life, a pyramid scheme, and a broken lamp. At the moment she had too many clients in the dining room. She let me in the big red door. I was wearing a lace chemise from the night before and sporting pasta sauce on my chin, the remnants of a handful of stolen spaghetti from a vendor that swore she couldn’t sell me a plate because it wouldn’t be hot, and that hot plates had to be ordered twenty four hours in advance. A few fraternity brothers walked by wondering where I was from and if I was a freshman. “Are you new?” I asked a cute tall one with brown hair and wide green eyes. “Yes, well, I just transferred here.” Tulane and its steam heated university center was just a few blocks away but I had to get cleaned up. I was late for my first meeting with Graham after having been gone for over a month. Garland led me up a narrow stair and in a few sunny moments I was surrounded by an attic full of china dolls. I thought it strange I had always pegged her as a kewpie enthusiast, and here were all these rosy cheeked cherubs indicating otherwise. “Do you need soap?” she asked, thoughtfully. “Cause all I got’s a little rose water and this tea tree oil moist towelette.” I took the little packet from her and started to unbutton the soiled silk.