• Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds
  • Between the Paradigm Birds

Another pandemic-induced artist book in a time of borders, this one is full of thoughts about being an artist in such times: 

Some say “Get to the heart of the matter”
But I think there are other ways

Learn from the Caddisfly larva
and gold dust 
She will build her shield
from whatever is available
in the stream

She knows 
there are energies in the edges —
where geographies touch

But line is infinite 
The pencil is meager

I am the line
I am the pencil

[Dear Teacher, come back
Your Rocinante has been tasked beyond capacity]


So the teacher said, 
“Do not be distracted by the dazzling center of the comet
but look just to its side

Let the corner of your eye
catch the long truth of it

My gift is in the sacred space between notes —

cello notes
bird notes
fog-horns-in-the-night notes”

And as in any matter where two sides come together 
Multitudes more abound,

hidden