Grander than Emoji


Everyone is a microcosm-

while art can push our subconscious “buttons” to merely emote

language (if intelligent) can encourage us to go beyond the stroking of “self” and


to work on something together for the sake of

grander things

than personal gratification, amusement or entertainment.

written by Zelda Weiss in Russian on facebook

translated by Google translate

edited by Jeanne

Once Long Ago

Movie by Jeanne in Looksery


Once Long Ago

Before time was locked
inside of clocks,
there was a child
who remembered
being ancient
in another lifetime.

The child held in her heart
the wisdom of the old one
just as that old one
had held inside her
the joy of the child
she had been.

Perhaps, before clocks,
time turned cartwheels,
and that’s where
the idea came from
for the hands of clocks
to spin.

jch 1/10/2014
(Janet Hutchinson)

I curtsy before you…


photo by Jeanne (painted by Annika)


Instead of composing my own poem about “manners” today, I want to share these hilarious bits from other poets. These are today’s prompt from Jan Hutchinson.

Manners Prompt
Write a poem made up of suggestions (real or absurd) for
appropriate manners or behavior in specific situations. You might
talk about being taught manners. Or you might simply entitle your
poem “Manners” and go somewhere unexpected.

Carrie says it’s more rude to stare at a blind man on the street
than to make a fat person joke about someone on TV.
Tony Hoagland

If someone you know
who died long ago
appears to you in dream,
it is rude to point out to them
that they are actually already dead.

…silence is always good manners
and often a clever thing to say
when you are at a party.
Tony Hoagland
in “Social Life”

Mary June’s brother Willard always had
just a certain corner of his handkerchief
hanging out of his hip pocket. That was
my first intimation of a personal style.
My hair wouldn’t comb down; so
every night for years I wore
one of Aunt Klara’s silk stockings
pulled firmly on top of my head.
When we had company my mother was always
afraid I would swing my soup spoon
toward me rather than away. And I was to
leave a little, not scraps like a dog at the last.
These glimpses of decorum in my early life
have fitted me for success. My manners,
my neat handkerchief, and my tame haircut
have seen me through everyday encounters with society.
William Stafford
in The Way It Is

Sit, she said. The wolf sat. Shake, she said.
He held his face and tail still
and shook everything in between. His fur
stood out in all directions. Sparks flew.
Dear sister, she wrote. His yellow eyes
followed the words discreetly. I have imagined
a wolf. He smells bad. He pants and his long tongue
drips onto the rug, my favorite rug. It has arrows
and urns and diamonds in it. The wolf sits
where I’ve stared all morning hoping
for a heron: statuesque, aloof,
enigmatic. Be that way, the wolf said.
There are other poets.
Pamela Alexander
in Inland

A Buddhist Full Moon


reflection of Saigyo’s Poem by Jeanne in InDesign (Adobe Creative Suite)



St Petersberg, Russia

 blue sanctuary

for Quenby on her Birthday

from Russia and Jeanne.


Jeanne and Bugs

The Elders: Jeanne @ 75 Bugs @ 18

Age spots dance: champagne

bubbles on the skin of life

“veteran lovers”

Definition #385 Busy

self-caricature by Jeanne

self-caricature by Jeanne

I’m sorry I’m busy
Too busy to burp!
I’m sorry I’m busy
Too busy to furp!

I’m simply too busy
To spell and to count;
Call in relaxers
To stretch me out!


lovingly rhymed for David the Brave
Jeanne Poland

Andrea Barrett said: “I think science and writing are utterly the same thing.

They are completely rooted in passion and desire, if they’re any good at all.

You can fall in love with the natural world in the same way you fall in love with a person.

There’s that same sense of helplessness, of lacking control over how much of your life you want to devote to it.”

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