The Reverberate Hills; or The Apotheosis of the Narwhal

Breeze across the lawn Waving the emerald grasses; Green bending to white

How handy the clouds: Stormy, serene, glowing, dark, permanent, passing

fragment of a young centaur's torso, Metropolitan Museum of Art

I see endless waves crashing receding crashing; I feel so at sea

a medieval column, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art

an old man walking midstreet so that traffic stops, his head bent downward

Walking, holding hands, Each talking on a cellphone; Traffic passes by

Never so vivid the green of my garden as under gloomy skies

Lots of exciting new or newish music coming up in March. . . starting on Monday, March 1, with the San Francisco Contemporary Music Players ...