0917-2018

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CHEEZ
by Fiona Smyth

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ADJACENCY
Writings by Gary Michael Dault
based on Lee Ka-sing's photographs
from LIGHT READINGS series

(Window)

#119--galvanized by your photo, Window

Contra Landscape

she longed for the conversation
of her children for trees out the window

her life was an icy path
blocked by a crowd of granular spirits,
her own breath become a throng

one more line lifted from an anatomical study
or an engineering handbook
a handmade biology, rusty crumbs of early industry,
would make her stronger than other people

it's true that she didn't want landscape to be part of nature
landscape had been her habitat and it hurt
she barricaded the door and bricked up the windows
against it


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Greenwood
by Kai Chan

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Coffee and Tea 鴛鴦偶寄
by Holly Lee

(Photo by Lee Ka-sing)

Seven Days

Monday
moon day
Art Post and
library day
galleries closed
books browsing
at BMV, dim sum
or box lunch
at Maido day

Tuesday
war day
ambition day
a day to avoid
visiting friends
but a good
supermarket day
stock up and
clean up

Wednesday
hump day
Woden or Mercredi
they crossed paths anyway
a day easily
hooked to Starz
chasing Mr. Wednesday

Thursday
hear thunder
Thor years away
but it's also about
farmer's market
garbage collection
words words
must come to light
or could it be
a burned out light bulb
rolling away

Friday
Freya, Venus and Aphrodites
food, sex and cannabis
clubs and bars
restaurants and cars
long lineup day
it's also the day
of the microwave

Saturday
Saturn day
put down your sickle
broom and mop
get up mid-day
your table is laid
a good harvest to celebrate
a festival
to embrace

Sunday
day of the sun
no guarantee
Hydro day one price
New York Times Magazine
as a routine
B&B most guests check out day
for some people, rest
and worship
I don't hear any church bells
this neighborhood takes it
just another brunch day

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The Transformation
by Lee Ka-sing

Saturday, September 16, 2018

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Tabletop Studio
by Gary Michael Dault

No.180. A Swinger of Birches

Abigail, his next-door landscape-painter, had brought him a cup of camomile tea and a shortbread biscuit, and was (he noted wryly) predictably perplexed, if not downright dismayed, by the mural-sized wall of birch bark that covered most of one wall of his studio. "Why would you do this?" she asked him. He tried to come up with" a reason that would satisfy her. "I wanted to feel smaller than a tree," he explained. I wanted to feel engulfed by one. I feel the birch tree is a sort of ladder, a transit, to somewhere else." Abigail looked puzzled. "Do you remember Robert Frost's great poem, Birches?" he asked her. He knew she didn't so he recited some for her:

I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

"But why would you go and plunder so much birch bark?"

"I didn't" he replied. "The whole thing is made of paper and cardboard."

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Caffeine Reveries
by Shelley Savor

Late Night Stroll

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MONDAY ARTPOST
with columns by Artist and Writer
ISSN 1918-6991
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Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication

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