Cami Park

Archive for the ‘Architecture’ Category

Some things are like treeswings

In Architecture, Philosophy, Poetry on September 1, 2010 at 11:07 am

Progress Under Blue Sky and Clouds
Karl Parker

It’s difficult to consider building a barn
when we still don’t have a clue down here about the front door.
There is, however, a seemingly-endless amount of stuff

to get lost in, occasionally come alive inside (at least
that’s what it feels like) an old treestump
or someone’s accent. Some things are like treeswings

that don’t need trees, and therefore of intrinsic good.
You see, we proceed by default, but don’t tell that to the weather
or little rivers of flies start to stream from our education.

A sudden weighty presence

In Architecture, Confessional, Prose on July 6, 2010 at 10:27 am

There are days you just don’t feel like talking, and today is a day like that for me, but it’s also the day that everyone is posting about Dzanc’s Best of the Web 2010, so I will say that when I got mine, I thought, “this is heavy!” which I liked, and then I opened it up to read a story at random, and read Amelia Gray‘s Cube, about an obelisk discovered by picnicking families at a park. I was impressed and taken by the story’s grace, intelligence, and humor as the group struggled to cope with the monolith’s sudden, weighty presence in their world, and when I was finished I thought, “Okay, that was one random piece of literature out of what, 95?” and have been taking it to bed with me ever since.

A fastening

In Architecture, Art, Poetry on December 30, 2009 at 7:12 am

Doris Cross

words support words, even as a column is built of mortar and stones —Doris Cross

Doors, abandon

In Architecture, Confessional, History on November 13, 2009 at 6:08 pm

Abandoned Places in the World

I’ve been neglectful, and I’m sorry. It’s a busy month for me writing and otherwise, but I will be gradually picking it all back up again.

If you aren’t going to die, at least make a palace of it

In Architecture, Confessional, Household on September 12, 2009 at 1:36 pm

Vintage Roadside's Photostream

I imagine myself in socks sliding lengths of marble hallways, and finally gathered up sleeping at the end of the last.