31. The Winter Branches25. Grey Days
January 8, 2014

Sunny this afternoon. Out for a walk, Palo Alto surprised me. Feeling the warmth on my arms and face. January 8. Reminded me of San Diego. In the pool, swimming. The day after Christmas. The day after New Years. Texting or tweeting to friends in Chicago, to friends in D.C. Walking around downtown Palo Alto […]

December 22, 2013

Saturday morning at Coava. Listening to my macchiato being made: Phuss, phiss and bang. Out the big windows, a December morning. Grey, silver city skyline across the river, Grand Ave flying by, a streetcar jammed with Christmas shoppers. This line of thinking, simple iteration over what’s there – “Macchiato’s on the bar!” – coffee morning. […]

February 19, 2012

“Paris is pre-eminently a grey city…the range of greys is seemingly infinite…gris, to the ears of a Frenchman, is capable of evoking a world of thought and feeling.” – Henry Miller And so is Portland. Not all the time: We gleam in May. Steam in July and August. Have one of the finest and most […]

February 2, 2012

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.” – Andrew Wyeth     – Jon Oropeza

December 22, 2007

Christmas being 4 days after the solstice used to annoy me. All I saw was a failure of calenderic conversion, something misplaced in Julian to Gregorian or through rounding off 365.259635. I understand Christianity stole their holy days from Pagan traditions, replacing original natural meanings with their monotheistic fictions, but it seemed silly that they […]

November 7, 2007

Satsuma they look like Paris market fruit there among the perfect American produce spheres rumpled, misshapen, green leaves hanging like flags saying Winter, it’s Winter. why do they numb my skull? like novocaine shot between the folds of my brain ripping into that sweet meat the strings and sections say Winter to me. – Jon […]

December 31, 2006

Getting out in all that absolute of white worldIs like floss for the soul –All the gunk in head and heart and gut gets flushedFrom the crunching and slushing in all thatWhite absolution – spirit winter’s dominance and yetAmidst all that muteness and coverLife springing, sunshine, a million miles Of blueity up above, life – […]