GRIZZLY PEAR

written snapshots

Category: Artifacts

  • The made-up word instantly entered their lexicon.

    Floof!

    A dramatic way to spread the blankets over the kids.

    Momma hates it.
    Kicks up too much dust.

    They love it.
    Especially when I whip the blanket down.

    A quick floof.
    More dust!

    The nightly ritual.
    After brushing teeth.
    Before Mommy’s kisses.

    ䷏䷣

    it furthers one to install helpers
    and to set armies marching

  • Wiping the tables while watching the sink.

    He called her to wash dishes together.

    She soaped while standing on a stool.

    He stood on a blue chair to rinse the dishes.

    I stayed on the floor.

    ䷃䷥

    one meets a like minded man
    with whom one can associate in good faith

  • She chose pink; he took red.

    She has glass cups.

    His are stainless steel.
    But only two.

    When both are used, he uses hers.
    A glass with a red hairband.

    you are rich in your neighbor

  • She didn’t want me to play the flute to accompany the festivities.

    It started with a juice bar.

    Then a route for their plasma car
    (threading between couches and under the table)

    Bowling.
    Drum Basketball.
    A Lego Pinball Machine.

    She drew up tickents.
    And cash.

    Her Animal Carnival.

    three kinds of game are caught

  • After they were done, we watered the vegetables.

    She cleaned out the tub.
    That one we never use.
    It triggered a rusty flow from the hot water heater.
    We flushed the tank.

    Finally filled it up.
    Four plastic ducks.
    Warmed up the room with an open window.

    A Sunday summer afternoon,
    Two kids and water.

    water flows on uninterruptedly and reaches its goal
    thus the superior man walks in lasting virtue

  • Am I a stuffed animal?

    She started with a lemonade stand.
    It grew into a juice bar by the front door.

    The main counter is a plastic bin elevated on paper rolls.
    The cups are toilet paper rolls with taped bottoms.

    The juices are math cubes of many colors.
    Strawberry, lemonade, blackberry….

    $1 each.
    She trades shifts with her brother.

    Their small chairs and stools fill the foyer.
    Music from my ipad, Vince Gualardi and Bola Sete.

    I sip on juice with the dolls.
    It’s been a minute.

    ䷉䷹

    thus the superior man joins with his friends
    for discussion and practice

  • He took her ebook reader to mash buttons.

    He reads his Bob Book.
    Haltingly.
    Sounding each short word.

    This won’t last long.
    Savor the moment.

    But the mind rushes away.
    To the siren song of the pocket computer.
    And its infinite digital worlds.

    ䷩䷓

    it furthers one to accomplish great deeds

  • The siblings invariably want the same thing at the same time.

    Apples.

    Step Ladder.

    He’s old enough to pair the two.

    He was scared at first.

    Then he took to it.

    “Fun of the high!”
    “Fun of the high!”
    “Fun of the high!”

    ䷔䷢

    the sun rises over the earth
    the image of progress

  • The stolen portrait at the juice bar was unappreciated.

    I sketched her reading book.

    She added a caption.

    Bad, Bad, Bad,
    Bad, Bad,
    Drawing

    ䷚䷵

    for the provision of nourishment
    brings good fortune
    spying about with sharp eyes

  • Old enough to throw; too young to catch.

    Three of us in the twilight.

    A triangle connected by a dimpled orange ball.

    They laughed and laughed, each time he dropped it.

    ䷖䷺

    a shoal of fishes