My wife and I, excluded, stand on the wrong side of a frosted-glass wall. It separates us from those on the other side who are enjoying a good meal. We were turned away! Are we angry? Envious? Do we feel left out? Not at all! It...
They took away my Kodachrome but gave me Photoshop instead. Now I can make the colors as bright and sunny as I want. The mute image now sings. The hidden is revealed. I think of Eliza Doolittle. She was a gem before Henry Higgin...
At the party we were alight with joy. “Thank you! Thank you!” we said. We said we’d remember the moment always and, having experienced such generosity from you, we promised generosity in return, to give ourselves to the world ju...
The moon is an egg waiting to be hatched.
Simple geometry is an oxymoron.
Where do thoughts come from?
Thoughts appear in our minds as if from nowhere.
Does that make them ours?
Can we claim credit?
At the end of a sentence, put...
Even at night, the tulips show forth their glory.
Even in the dark, they dance and sing.
Bring out a light and you will find them
shouting their hallelujahs.
So, too, when the dismal descends,
may we do as well...
On the inside walls of my glass,
tiny bubbles of air appear out of nowhere
as the cold water warms to room temperature.
Wondering why, I read and learn.
The warmer water gets, the less air it holds.
I imagine the worst, that
our differences will divide us —
communities in uproar,
civil wars raging
in all their uncivil ways,
the world at odds with itself,
Micael Priest's work was one of the hallmarks of a special time in Austin. He made the art that drew the crowds to hear the music that made a city. He made us all a little richer just by strokes of a pen