Author Archives: Don Yorty

Some thoughts on the art and the artist

… The art and the artist, can we love one and not the other? It’s a difficult question to answer. Sometimes my heroes might seem to some a little foolish, embarrassing or pathetic, like Li Bai trying to kiss the … Continue reading →

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7 Jul ’12

… My mouth is as slimy as a warm snail. Walking down the mountain navigating Sharp rocks and the loose snapping sticks lying In wait to strike at my legs on the trail All that is wet is oozing out … Continue reading →

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5 Jul ’12

… The poet slides on her bottom stubborn As a turtle over slippery stones Sitting inching picking up the large ones That hinder her path dropping them to form An island in the current that’s rushing At us. I’m on … Continue reading →

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26 Jun ’12

… She completely sparkles, the girl talking to her father in a conversation that must be a little funny because she starts to laugh as well as talk, talking of her final destination perhaps leaving this very morning on a … Continue reading →

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8 Jun ’12

….. I overturned the rowboat planning soon to row, looking as I turned it over for water snakes or wasps in their paper nests, but there was nothing there, it was true so I reached out to get the oars … Continue reading →

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7 Jun ’12

… At any moment it’s going to rain making the world for miles around all wet. As the sky’s growing darker the leaves get anxious—Or is it me? No I remain calm on this comfortable rock and see it’s the … Continue reading →

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4 Jun ’12

… In an abandoned web the baby twined with its tail held fast in the twisted strands which I gently tugged at with careful hands not wanting to break the delicate spine of one so young. When I went in … Continue reading →

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3 Jun ’12

… I’m ready sitting on the dock looking at all the work before me. Today’s sun breaks from the tree tops and the sparrows come and start to dart disturbing the floating sky rippling on the pond where I’ve noticed … Continue reading →

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30 May ’12

… I am singular and we are plural. I see us walking on the busy street and waiting for the bus. Each day I meet him, Walt Whitman, whose kind face I see all over the place. Or I am … Continue reading →

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28 May ’12

… I see how strong a fragile thing can be. Look! A butterfly comes fluttering over its own reflection hovering out in the middle of a pond so deep and close you’d think no insect strength could last the distance … Continue reading →

If I Told Him: A Complete Portrait of Picasso

27 May ’12

… I wanted to make a video poem out of the Caedmon recording of Gertrude Stein reciting If I Told Him. In late May, shortly before it closed, I saw the Stein show at the Met and filmed some of … Continue reading →

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20 May ’12

… The sun is bright reflected on water shimmering it to pieces. With too much light I’m blind. They say when we see God up close we die. I’m pretty sure I’ve never looked on God up close but every … Continue reading →