WATERMARK

a poet’s notebook

Established 02004

image

March 13, 2004

Breakfast

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Critters, garden

cute, garden, image, photograph, sparrow, squirrel
March 12, 2004

Winter Ending

wind chimes | chicadees | the tick-tick-tick of snow melting | down the drainpipe Continue reading

Photos 2004, small poems

frost, haiku, image, photograph, poem, poetry, small poem, winter
March 11, 2004

Madrid

This morning, a family of Canada geese is floating under the bridge. Momma, papa, and four goslings, serenely ignoring a loud, harassing crow. We often have ducks, but I’ve never seen geese raise their families here. Perhaps they are passing through. Why, on this day with another 190 dead from terrorism, do I find this… Continue reading

Current Affairs, Noticed

image, Madrid, terrorism
March 10, 2004

Hubble Deep Field

"A galactic brawl. A close encounter with a spiral galaxy. Blue wisps of galaxies. These close-up snapshots of galaxies in the Hubble Ultra Deep Field reveal the drama of galactic life." Too much for (my) words. Continue reading

Current Affairs, Science

deep field, galaxies, galaxy, Hubble, image, photograph
March 9, 2004

Portabella

This weblog experiment is two months old today. How does one tell if such an experiment is a "success"? I can tell from my stats that folks are coming here, though they rarely speak. And links to Watermark have magically appeared on some of my best-loved blogs. From this, I take encouragement. I have learned… Continue reading

Blogging, Photos 2004

image, mushroom, photograph, portabella, watermark, weblog

Ancestral (Artificial )Intelligence

I do not use AI to write. For me, writing is how I think, and I prefer to do it myself. If/when I post anything here that I suspect or know to be AI generated, I will tell you.

I have changed this from Artificial to Ancestral, after Abi Awomosu @ Substack. This medium was made with human history, human thought. All of it, bright and dark. It is ancestral.

Poems

Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.

In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.

It is likely to be — it is best if it is — a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.

A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think — but it is not necessarily biographical.

image

Breakfast

Winter Ending

Madrid

Hubble Deep Field

Portabella