Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Oklahoma is OK!
At the museum of art in downtown Oklahoma City Dale Chihuly exhibits his wondrous work in glass art. The photo above shows part of the ocean hallway. Here and there he includes cheruby angels, and in my photograph I include a human angel who admires his work. Dale Chihuly's exhibit provides a visual and visceral experience to the visitor.
Not far from downtown stands an historic mansion where the community-minded fellow Mr. Oberholser lived during the early part of last century. The windows depicting musicians caught my eye.
Nearby, the Harn Farm, donated by the Harn family to the city, still maintains the buildings used some decades ago. I took a photograph of the inside of the Stoney Brook schoolhouse, which closed in the mid-1950's.
Of all things I saw, the small space between two rooms upstairs in the Oberholser Mansion seemed the most inviting to me: a painting; a bookcase with encyclopedias and a dictionary; and a chair to sit in while I read them.
Later in the day, walking around Bricktown I came upon a sculpture of an apparent African-American pushing a large sphere up two parallel metal rails. I thought it looked beautiful. Did it symbolize Sisyphus and his struggles to reflect the struggles that our black people endure in our predominantly white culture? I do not know, and nor could I discover the name of the artist, which gives me a second reason to re-visit the sculpture sometime in the future.
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin
JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
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