tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-284378742023-11-15T09:04:12.930-05:00Sketching and Writing in ItalyA celebration of words and images.Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149707355140555592006-06-07T13:39:00.001-04:002006-06-24T09:22:59.466-04:00What's the buzz?Za-ZaIn your dream there is that buzzing soundnear your ear.They know when you are most vulnerable,a forearm on top of a blanket,A leg sticking out of the sheets, seeking the coolnight air.In the dark tile of the ceiling they wait fortheir primi to be servedgliding down the thick column of carbon dioxide to the warm pulsinglandscape that gives them their only happiness:stabbing, sucking.Rising upKatalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149701911588116112006-06-07T13:22:00.000-04:002006-06-07T13:38:31.626-04:00No SweatMoist communicationsWater moving from place to placeEvaporating, condensing, beading, dripping.One moment floating freely in the air,The next trapped in some hot armpit.I sweat profusely, my forehead downpours,Shirt backs mapped with the heat,Coastlines of salt on dark cloth,Record of the long walk home.My glasses fog up with steamy water vapor,I finger squeegee streams from my brow.Shelves with Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149699482125856952006-06-07T12:12:00.000-04:002006-06-07T12:58:02.186-04:00Faculty ClubRosie’sThe warmth of the sun of the Dominican Republic Bathes the dark heart of Savonarola.Each night dogs eagerly wait for their master’s walk, They are greeted with a small snack and a friendly pat,Or it becomes a pause on the way home from work,The ever-present wine bottle has no bottom.An oasis of smiles, moist with happiness and joy,Spiced with panino, peanuts and jokes.Children run the Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149644334029327602006-06-06T21:34:00.000-04:002006-06-06T21:38:54.040-04:00RecycledThe Master of the Blue BinHis friends amazed at his skill,witnessing flesh conquering machine.He was one with the claw, grasping a fuzzy trophy with focused confidence,at thirteen, he was at the top of his game.At thirty-three, he leaves before dawn Playing a new game, spread over the medieval city.His truck rattles down narrow streets with drawn shutters, the long claw-arm tucked in tight behindKatalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149642188784293172006-06-06T20:47:00.000-04:002006-06-06T21:18:51.663-04:00Alla VialeSqueegee GuyStanding in the hot Tuscan sun where roads cross,The mustachioed tattered prince of a despised raceOf centuries of darkness squints at the line of cars arrivingFrom the cool countryside queuing up at the red light.With only a minute to work sparing no extra effort,he bypasses a dirty little Ape, a full taxi, the motorini;And moves towards the clean new Mercedes,the cool driver behind Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149640450595991892006-06-06T20:27:00.000-04:002006-06-08T12:34:53.446-04:00Calcio AnticoSan Giovanni HaikuOver San CroceTattooed players battlefor fiery flowers.William Padgett, 30 June 2005Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149639901177148582006-06-06T20:17:00.000-04:002006-06-06T20:25:01.186-04:00Da mio cucinaItalian ZenGangs of swallows drawing eights Around the tiles and antennae.Diving, gliding, turning, not noticingThe call she didn’t want to get.Words pacing her back and forth,Gesturing punctuation, sentencing.Floating, her steps quickened as The truth pierced her heart.Completing so perfect a design, Pain became the black dot in whiteMaking it one, making it whole. Click…William Padgett, 21 JuneKatalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149629866767249022006-06-06T17:28:00.001-04:002010-06-24T15:40:51.673-04:00Due PiediA Year of Living CarlesslyI don’t need to get a driving license to walk,I never have to circle the block to park my feet,There is no waiting in line to gas my sandals andNo quarterly payments for insurance for my toes.Someday I may get flat feet, but never have flat tires,Every year there is no new models to envy and lust for,I can go directly in water, dance a jig or go up 88 stairs,And my wife Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1149181261563797332006-06-01T12:14:00.000-04:002006-06-05T10:06:42.196-04:00Romano LucacchiniI lost a good friend this week, Romano was the quintessential Florentine gentleman. He was a hard working and very talented sculptor as well as a gifted and inspiring professor. He worked even on the day he died. My wife saw him that afternoon with a student and they talked enthusiastically about the upcoming summer's activities. The world will be a little darker with the passing of "questo Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1148493929725544732006-05-24T13:47:00.002-04:002010-06-24T15:39:21.785-04:00My Favorite TreeMio Albero It has been in this Giardina a very long timeThe seasons recorded in growth and sleep.Planted by a man who would neverEnjoy in its full shade on a hot day.Generations of children ran around its feet,Birds born in its arms return home each spring.This year I fell in love with a special tree,My lines stroking and caressing its contours,I was dazzled by its size, its presence, its Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28437874.post-1148137463930988272006-05-20T09:16:00.001-04:002010-06-24T15:36:32.376-04:00Back to BasicsI chose to go to art school because I always loved to draw. I graduated from Washington University in St. Louis with a BFA in Illustration. However, as years went by I found that I was asked to design more than I was asked to illustrate. I, over time, became a designer. Now I teach design. During the last ten or fifteen years I found that I was drawing less and less. I sketched out conceptual Katalysthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07305830758077548539noreply@blogger.com0