Take perspectives, create ceramic intimacies, juxtapose the early morning with the instant gloss of figurative sunshine, and see.

Last summer I worked at the Boys and Girls Club, working with first- and second-grade kids. One boy named Bryce came up to me while we were in the “Chillax Room,” where there were board games, puzzles, Disney movies, and books. He was obviously very upset. I asked him what was wrong (seven-year-olds often cry, and it’s usually nothing life-threatening), and through the tears he said “Planets can be destroyed!” I said, “What?

Ignoramuses plomp along sidewalks, and they really like what they see. Concrete, stores, brilliant dazzles of shiny glory, people their size. Then they can glance at the skyline and see nothing but buildings. Giant, oppressive buildings, looming above. Not imminently looming, but being the loom that weaves our tapestry. The warp and weft of all they’ve ever known. Just look one level higher, take one more step, breathe one breath deeper, and see the mountains!

I saw this in a magazine in Rediscovered Books downtown. This makes me smile. Interview + Pictures JR Art website

Did you just look out your window? I can’t say that I’ve ever had spontaneous thoughts of stars. But you would. You would not just glance in passing as you got up. Or as you went to bed. Nor would you see and not wonder. You would have the dark, brilliant impulse. And you would follow with true, beautiful thoughts. Those pinpricks stabbing your finger would be love. You find in those what everyone wants to find everywhere.

Well, sort of. St. John's publishes a literary magazine of student work every semester, called The Grout, and I got a couple pieces in it! It's a little book about 15 pages long, so it's nothing earth-shattering, but still pretty cool. I submitted a picture I took a couple years ago back in Rock Springs, and the story I wrote recently, Walking Is Like Running While Appreciating.