Roselyn, Master quilter

I often walk to Roselyn's place, filled with magnificent quilts: whimsical, bold, classic and free. The quilts she has made are of extraordinary quality. In design, in color. from one centimeter narrow pieces sown together to blocks of color. She also has done a quilt with grandmothers on motorcycles, quilts with an almost native American feel. She is a wonderful person, reads the New Yorker, loves Jazz, is kind and warm. Her home is cozy and warm, pleasant with books and CD's. Her son and grandchildren live nearby. They shop for groceries together since the nearest supermarket is 24 miles away. She is loyal to whom she is and that is wonderful!
My chip is full, so no pictures of the quilts for now....

Indian Summer turned into cold nights with high winds

The nice Indian Summer is coming to an end. The weather is getting cold. People bundle up. Scarfs come out of the closet. Yet a long walk walk in the beautiful desert  still enchants. Doggy Dog could even be loose since there were no Coyotes nor snakes around.

Sadly my dear friends Cooper and Irene are leaving tomorrow morning and we probably wont see each other again  before more than a year is over. I hope all their plans come together that they find the people they need to be around and enjoy art and creativity. So maybe I can then go to New Mexico and stay for while in their new surroundings...

It is cold now: four blankets and a small dog kind of keeps me warm...

Living in two places makes the loss of people double. Some are really sick, others are really old. Some go on not withstanding. Others not so much. I guess I am a forever city girl longing for the desert beauty around here. Arrivals and leavings all is part of life and the excitement of living.

American elections

Currently I reside in Europe following the election campaign with horror at the Trump phenomenon and decidedly with amazement at the democratic campaign. When in the States I live a small rural village with about 359 residents. Only about twenty are registered democrats, myself included. I can but wonder how the atmosphere in town is with the ugliness that has been spewed by Trump. He didn't make the fortune he has, he inherited it from his father as far as I could research it. What gets to me is his hatred, his vulgar racism.The lack of condemnation of the Clan. And yet, I am not happy with what is happening on the democratic side. I would like Hillary to win. And I would like to see her take over a few good ideas Bernie has. It might be time for a female president, one who has proven that she has stamina, knows the wheels of government and she might just find the trick on how to work together with the congress and the senate. I am also astonished that Bernie Sanders goes after Obama. I must admit that I like the president a lot. I think he accomplished what he could in the face of opposition by the republicans who seemed to prefer that nothing could happen that is good for the country. Hillary certainly knows the president very well and I think she does appreciate all he tried to accomplish. Maybe this fact alone would get her my vote. I'll try and be home for early voting and go for the ride till after election day. That is to say unless the atmosphere in the country turns ugly. What is this about building a wall between Mexico and the USA? All that for a few illegal Mexicans crossing the border at their own peril? What about the poor Americans living not to far from Mexico who go there to see the dentist, to buy their prescription drugs.... Friendship will always bring me back to my old gas station.

Norris Bennet

Leaving Arizona always brings melancholy since I leave behind dear friends for about a year. So I have learned to cherish my friends while I can. Yes, John and Nadine (and Otis of course who is loved and adored by my Doggy Dog.) Also Cooper and Irene, Tucker and Annie Bones.
Norris Bennet has been a friend since forever. I probably met him when I was 19 or maybe 20. He was part part of a group of buskers and artists in Antwerp. He later moved to the Netherlands, but whenever he came to Belgium he would stay at my place. Derroll Adams, Tony Mafia, Robin an Irish busker who stayed a while with Tony and me ad of course there was singer songwriter Dave Betts. Anyway, this blog is about friendship. Norris always had bad eyesight, but when I met him in November it turned out that he was totally blind. He is one the musicians of The Ebony Hillbilly's, a large all black group playing folk songs. Norris's voice always had a special quality going high and strong. Deep and warm. When I asked him how he cooped, his reply was: you have to know a lot of phone numbers by hart. So I wondered how many he knew. His reply was a few hundred. But enough of that. It was on my way back from Arizona that I decided to have a three day stop over in New York. I wanted to see Norris, feel how he is and then also Carla came with Tara. We had a nice Italian dinner all together. It was wonderful and enlightening to see how he copes. He is a great example. By the way, it was Tony who gave him the Turquoise ring he always wears.

Peach Springs - Hualapai

It had been a year or so since I last saw Frank. He has been a friend since a long time and has always been generous with his time. He introduced me to the Hualapai sweat lodge. The first time we were three people plus Frank who sang the sweat lodge songs pouring the water over the hot stones. Of course he sang in Hualapai, thus I didn't understand a word. Yet at the third round I kind of got it what I had to do inside: being open, cleansing my self in all ways, being attentive, quiet, mindful and quietly be part of the ceremony. At this visit Frank junior was there as well, now living with his father and learning the culture, the language and maybe even the songs and herbs and such. It was fun cooking a meal together and to make the salsa sauce from scratch:
Cooking together is fun:
The recipe: Boil 6 to 7 tomatoes. Well it depends also on the amount of salsa you want to make, when the tomatoes are done, throw them in a mixer, add garlic. While the tomatoes are cooking roast the green jalapeño peppers on an open flame. Then add them to the tomatoes and mix again.
Fry the Mission Tortilla's in a greased skilled. Clean the lettuce, heat the brown beans (or alternatively the garbanzo beans) and mash them up when soft.
Put the mashed beans on the fried tortilla, add lettuce and cheddar cheese and the fresh salsa. Enjoy!
Thanks for a wonderful afternoon, Frank and Frank. And I drove off into the sunset in Chloride.

Travels with Doggy Dog

Traveling with a small dog entails quite a lot of things. There are specific times that need to be respected for when vaccinations must be given. There are also things that must be done in the last three days before the trip like filling out the health certificate for the pooch. The weight of Doggy must be right otherwise she cannot be with us in the cabin.
This time a a colleague from PEN-Flanders will be traveling with me. Of course it is always possible that life has some surprises in store. For instance our friend Nigerian poet friend Tade Ipadeola won't be able to come and visit us. Sad, we wanted to discuss his poetry, talk through some of the problems with the translation and also how to proceed after the proofreading we will be doing when at our destination. Of course we also will meet up with friends, make long walks in the desert, look at the murals and petroglyph's beauty and try once again to decipher their meaning. The particular once near the village are Hualapai and some old Hualapai still kind of know how to interpret them. The weather will still be nice, so longer trips are being planned. A lot of Nature and added to the mix also some Culture. I particularly look forward to my friends I have had to miss so long.
All of you: Sunday night late I should be home with my guest. Brace yourself for Monday morning: I need a lot of hugs.
When returning to Europe we'll stop in New York to bring the books "Over the backs of Salmon" in the Dutch translation "Over Ruggen van Zalmen" to Sherman Alexie's publisher and friend Robert Hershon. Exiting times await us.

Praying for forbidden fruit by Bart Stouten

Bart forever kind and forever the professional organized a book presentation  unlike any other I have seen and especially heard. The Introduction by Luc Coorevits, was clear and to the point and he was right when he said it was a totally different approach to writing this real novel. In this picture Bart seems to be quietly relaxing, kind of knowing that everything would be fine. It was after all the master who was the master of ceremony. Publisher Friday (Vrijdag) brought another good book out. Once home I started reading and it is quite captivating. Working for Klara, the classical radio in Flanders Bart knows the field of music extremely well. He will find new young talent as Wout Goris and Wolfram Ghesquière, a truly intimate performance with Wofram's lyrics  brought to us in a fragile, husky voice by Wout. I preferred his English ballads over the Dutch ones although those  found a way to touch me.

 Here as a surprise for the evening Bart reading from the book and young Vlad Weverbergh on bas sax intoning, improvising along the reading. I had enjoyed Vlad's work a couple of times before, he seemed as playful yet even more mature as a musician. In other words. What a beautiful, rich evening.
Thanks to all  who made it happen.

Abandoned by the muse by Bieke Stengos

Having moved in the same circles when young, the setting full of street musicians, painters and poets our lives took different paths. Bieke Stengos emigrated to Canada, studied some more and has a magnificent daughter. What is the same in our lives is that we both write. She just has a book out published by Vocamus Press, her second  book of poetry. Her inspiration is the land, the landscape, the changing season. her poetry is filled with the strange beauty of melancholy. She came back to Belgium for a brief time and thus salon 12b invited her and the other poets present for a reading: Lucienne Stassaerts, who read impressive poems from work in progress: Souvenirs part II, Frank De Vos, Silent Bear, myself.

One poem by Bieke: 

XIV

When I dream you into being
I find myself lost in a fog-invaded forest
Of glimmering naked trees
That rise
from the blue-white snow
cold like your body
Before heat devoured it

I search for a place to breathe freely
But I get lost
In the press of your lips
Against the stretched skin of time
And the memory of you fading
Like a melting negative
Of a city with no sun
Where streets run dead into low walls

When I open my eyes
To a black line of upright trees
I vanish from sight
*
Translation nto Dutch for whom needs it:
 
XIV

Als ik je tot leven droom
Verlies ik mezelf
In een nevel doordesemd bos
Van glimend naakte bomen
Die oprijzen
Uit blauwwitte sneeuw
Koud als je lichaam
Voor de hitte het verslond

Ik zoek een plek om vrij te ademen
Maar verlies mijzelf
In de druk van je lippen
Tegen de gespannen huid van de tijd
En de herinnering aan jou vervaagt
Als een smeltend negatief
Van een stad zonder zon
Waar straten dood lopen op lage muren

Wanneer ik mijn ogen open
Op een zwarte rij loodrechte bomen
Verdwijn ik uit het zicht

 

The movie 'Coming home'

Last night with a friend, in my festively lit town, we enjoyed a nice sashimi dinner: excellent raw fish, healthy and delicious. After green tea ice cream and white sesame ice cream, we saw in my preferred movie theater 'Cartoons' the movie Coming home. The story about love, guilt and grace is set in China. The father was a dissident and ended up for 30 years in jail. The daughter grew up under the so called "Cultural Revolution". She is a great and ambitious dancer and will do anything to secure the lead role, even betraying her father. The mother is a professor, loving and missing her husband. Finally a date is set for his return and then the movie turns into the sadness of dementia. She doesn't recognize her husband and for the betrayal by her daughter, she has chased her off. The husband, an intelligent, kind and compassionate man, comes up with ways to try and make his wife recognize him, which happens just one fleeting moment. He reads the letters he wrote but could send from jail to her... So he becomes the 'letter reader', he tunes the piano and he is the piano tuner. The daughter confesses it was her who betrayed him... He said I knew. It is all right... He knew what the cultural revolution did to people. He finally writes a letter asking the mother to let her daughter stay with her again... so that she can take care of her. The father becomes an accepted presence in whatever role it is that day. It is a beautiful and sad movie. I shed a few tears for my mother who passed away in February with dementia.

So with the beauty and understanding coming from art, I try to live my life to the fullest. I wish you all a beautiful end of year season.... May it be Hanukkah, Christmas, or a family fest... May there be peace, food, health and beauty for all.

Leaving friends - gratitude

In a few days I'll be leaving to go back to my life on the other side of the ocean. It is always hard to leave friends behind. The kindness and generosity, the humanity, their wildness as Giant fans, their artistic flair... all that will be missed. Also the friends they invited to watch the movie Bagdad Café together after eating cornbread and corn chowder, a great salad and enough beer for a café in Antwerp. The chairman of all the groups, the lady who walks and walks with her dogs, the friends who have known me since 1991, my roaming friend and activist... I learned from all of you. I will practice gratitude for all you have so generously given me.

Chicago to Santa Cruz - the ocean

After a long hard day with three flights for which I had a boarding card were canceled which was only the beginning of a a quite chaotic situation: 2000 flights were canceled in Chacago O'hare because someone poured fuel on the computers in the control tower and then tried to stab himself to death. 60.000 people got stranded and finding a room when traveling with a pet is in normal times hard enough... Departing was done as 20 years ago with commands by the control  tower, no fancy assistance by computers.Any way I was picked up the next day on San Francisco by Irene and she was so thoughtful that she took the coastal road, so I saw and heard the surf, enjoyed the light and the landscape and felt a lot better

 What awaited me was a warm nest, a cozy home and beautiful coastal city. I could live there. ee I saw a seal, heard a sea lion and we walked the beach with all the dogs enjoying the outing. I am grateful that Doggy Dog traveled so well without barking or anything. This morning we went to see the 2.200 Years old redwood grove... But more of that later... I am grateful that all the passengers finally made it to their destination and I give thanks for good friends...

VERS 1984-2014

A friend and colleague Karel Sergen launched this fun and serious project. Bar Van Loo had sugested to find one's own audience for an original selection of thirty years of poetry. So Karel mailed out an extended overview of his work and asked his friends poets to choose one poem and write a short commentary like one would send a tweet. The publisher P Leo Peeraer of 'Uitgevery P' accepted the challenge to publish this book, and unbeknown to all the poets who send in their favorite poem they were considered co-authors of the book and received it as a gift. The celebration of this project was the reason we drove with four people from Antwerp to Saint Remy-Geest, the beautiful village just over the language border. I was again impressed by the place. I was even more impressed by the careful preparation of the program for the day. Karel is form the Dutch peaking part of Belgium and lives in the French speaking part since quite a while. I was impressed that the local dignitaries were bilingual. The authors speaking and reading were bilingual too and so is the book. Bernard De Coen, in close collaboration with Karel made a great and wonderful translation into French.

Everything breathes beauty and caring and even a deluge couldn't stop the festivities. In three different spots the poets who had chosen their 'favorite' read it for the audience. Everybody had a great time. I felt hopeful because of the inclusiveness of the whole day. On the picture right you see Karel (left) and Bart (right). French and Dutch, Japanese and English, all together. Hilde Keteleer is reading and I must thank her for letting me use her pictures. I love the attention to detail, the edible flowers, the great people there and the beautiful together of poetry and language.Even old chairs became poetic objects with a haiku.

Flagstaf and Route 66

With a friend
in a silver spiffy car
cruising route 66
Kingman Hackberry
Truxton
where the apple pie was
when the two old ladies were
Peach Springs of the Hualapai
Seligman where I got breakfast
a couple of times
ate black eyed peas
on New Year's day in 1995
oh those icy roads
and now new to me Route 66
looping to Ashfork
stretches of walls in red lava rock
and the spacey silence
which will forever last                                      
then I 40 weaving to Williams
to Flag
old buildings old hippies
old books & new thoughts
and time in slower flow
autumn light
in peaceful glow

I met Jack in the Starrlight
and howling Allen
Collins and Simic
and De Bello Gallico printed by Plantin
in 1570 in Antwerp
where so soon I must return...

Walking in the desert

When time is slow

the company good

you walk and talk

then laying down

on the outside couch

I smell the time of desert sand

opening my eyes

the mass of pinpricked stars

in my skies of blues

I name them Billie Holiday, Miss Ella and Aretha

in my darkest hues

eyes closed the reflection

of the sun in orange yellow glow

then in these silences 

tweets of birds

a far plane and someone’s plan

a car, a truck, a trick

and slight of hand

then swimming

in the desert glass and singing sand

 

Bake sale on Old Miners Day

At nine the women have set up
their last stand
have baked
now sell or as I
eat and share and buy
dress up on a dare collect
for the merry go round
in this town
flags
for the vets in the cemetery
vaudeville play
community spirit
for a day
friendshp
& foreign wars
cow girls
bad boys
and floozies
bikers on harleys
(yes I know the sound well)
in a way
all soiled doves with
pretty old cars

My friend Vicky - out West

She lived her life the way it was supposed to be. Like so many of us. A husband, children... Some of it good, bad times too. Like so many of us. She changed, made mistakes, missed the right or left turn. Yet she became alive and kept looking for whom, for what?

What is what she found first, deep in mud ... Then she found whom, whom she could dare and share with. Thus we met, thus she left, following her road with heart.

Godspeed Vicky... Still moving on and on.

Futures envisioned in song and dance: Hola!

Agencefuture got it's start years ago in London. After a doctorate about the images of the future on the BBC, Maya wondered how the future was imagined in the real world. She and photographer - camera man and fervent cyclist Bram set out in the world on recumbent bikes to go in search of the images other people hold. Their latest venture was the Maono project for which they made a wonderful road book for each of the participants to fill out or to be inspired by.
A wonderful result of the cooperation between development aid, research into the future and working together with artists in the Democratic Republic of Congo is the song 'Hola' which has been written and composed and performed as part of the project. Joy and peace, creativity, understanding and a good dose of perfectionism and respect are the ingredients of this heartwarming song.

A visitor

Since a few days I have been thinking of Jean: A Vietnam vet, Navy, special ops, suffering from PTSS, a miner and bicycle racer on national level. When she, a woman of 62, visited me with Aurora her Hybrid wolf, she was stuck in body and soul. Not pathetic, but searching as so many of us. The latest identity, beside being a father, a soldier and trans-gender, came about when her mom died and she discovered that she was Cherokee. She even found the family name in the books. She didn't quite look the part because of a German father. 

How does one integrate a voice from one life segment to the next. Only in the bike racing, she was recognized as an athlete before and after the operation. She always knew she was a woman, born into the wrong kind of body. Where can she find acceptance, a companion, peace of mind and fulfillment? The wish has never come true for her since no group fully accepted her for all she has been. If only our society were less judgmental and more welcoming to all differences... She lived her life the way it was supposed to be. Like so many people do. She was a man, married, had children, cross-dressing  in the weekends. Some of her life was good, some bad times too. She changed, made mistakes, missed a right or left turn on the way. But she kept looking. I am not sure for what, nor for whom. She had a dear friend Dave, good buddies. he just accepted her the way she had become. What she found was who she was, whom she could be if she dared to share her friendship and true soul. When we met, I had to push Aurora, her big wolf of my bed, laughing about the silliness of it. Then again she left, following her road from past to present and future... And then she was no more but a memory and a lesson.