Thursday, 31 December 2015

On New Year’s Eve 2015 By Bob Paris ©2015

Along this star washed road walking
We see all around the promise of
A vast and sacred sky and there
Angels wave to goddess and beyond
To sun and moon and cedar shadowed
Oh shining mourn gently touched
Sung out boldly from rippled memory
Thou shalt never find a heart so aflame
Burnt intertwine with this spectral oh
Remember oh remember
Oh do you darling mine
Magnificent gods race through frosted glade
Whispering bough dances with a kiss
While night lay bled and day crouches hidden
Behind racing tide before a door that opens
As love comes on a lingering flicker
Of perfumed and expectant wind


On New Year’s Eve 2015
By Bob Paris ©2015
Photo: Brian LeFurgey (taken as I was writing this poem)

Sunday, 20 December 2015

WINTER SOLSTICE 2015 By Bob Paris ©


You are lovely to me as that moon
Waxing gibbous now above
This distant dapple canvas oh so near
In the spread of four o’clock dusk
Crawling proudly as ample fog afloat
Our favorite riverbank near the rush
Of blue ice tumbled over mossy stones
And light with me together candlewicks
That we might sing ourselves hopeful toward
The promise of tomorrow’s brighter dawning


WINTER SOLSTICE 2015 By Bob Paris ©

Sunday, 25 October 2015

FANTASTIC MAN 10th Anniversary Issue -- Feature Interview


BE ON THE LOOKOUT for my interview and photo story in the amazing 10th anniversary issue of Fantastic Man (www.fantasticman.com). Issue no. 22, with Kyle MacLaughlan on the cover. 300+ pages of interviews (including Mr. MacLachlin, Jeffrey Tambor, Jesse Eisenberg, me, and more), gorgeous photography, fashion, design, culture and so forth. Please, however, realize that these guys are New-Old-School (and all the better for it!). They don’t publish an online version of the book -- just good old glorious print-on-paper!

FOR MY STORY, they sent photographer Bruno Staub and writer William Van Meter to our home, all the better to capture my life now, in the surroundings that drive my creativity and back-to-basics life. Both men seemed to understand that the consistent through-line of my entire life has been personal and creative transformation.

photo by Bruce Weber (c) 1999 
AS A BONUS, my interview is followed by a suite of never-before-published portraits, taken by my friend and creative inspiration, Bruce Weber, at his Adirondack Park residence, Camp Longwood, in 1999. I am deeply grateful to Bruce for allowing these images to be published (the session was one of the first of many times we’ve worked together over the years).


SO, MANY HUMBLE THANKS to Fantastic Man’s founding editors, Jop Van Bennekom and Gert Jonkers – and their fantastic staff! I am honored to be a part of their 10th Anniversary Issue!

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

HEY THERE BUD by Bob Paris ©9-15-2015

Photo ©Bob Paris 1996 all rights reserved
Shall glory be cut along this wind
That is but unquenched inside a thirst
For the eye that seizes a glimpse
Of what not the beating heart might see
On a mirror set dark and marching to
A bagpipe and snare-drum tune wailing
Toward what or where or how or when
Might draw a billow of pure undying light
And song and mirth and melancholy smiles
On that branch that was but yesterday
A bud so overfilled by promise
Bucked up upon this wind


HEY THERE BUD by Bob Paris ©9-15-2015

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

TO LINGER By Bob Paris

This hank of life that waits on none
More than a glance shimmered across
Wire and coupling that hold a heart such
As mine together along switchback trails
Into clouds that ring mountaintop and down
Among volcanic coolness held in a whispered
Fault line that bears no image of fault
Or reason or impulse or single explanation
Nor belief nor doors flung open by wind
Made visible and haunting inside
Swirls round to find a mind unstilled
By steady race of pulse and blood and light
And pause in which to linger






TO LINGER
By Bob Paris © 8.25.2015

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

Dog Days

The day was bright and dry. July landed early and hard. So it seems. Clean light on sun-bleached grass. The world feels thirsty. Already I miss my firth of forth fall.



















(Thoughts gathered out on the back deck, paused while reading THE DOG by Joseph O’Neill (hilarious, deep, timely) as I’m watched over by my own keen here-and-now dog (who wants me to join him in the yard for some fetch (or should I say, throw?))).)