What I've Learned From Steve Martin

When you're a young magician, best to have a few jokes memorized.

Being on Johnny Carson doesn't mean you've made it.

Being a magician does not preclude you from being a comedian does not preclude you from being an actor does not preclude you from being a writer does not preclude you from being a musician does not preclude you from being a fine art collector.

Being not funny can be very funny.

If everyone thinks what you do is inaccessible, you must be on to something big.

Getting a standing ovation from a sold-out crowd even before you say one word boosts one's confidence.

If you are open to hearing what the local band has to offer, you might just find everything you need.

Two page NewYorker articles garner more attention than two hour movies.

Tweeting can be fun.

Doing musical collaborations with beautiful talented women makes a man feel young.

You know you've made it when they start laughing before you even say hello.

If you do something for 50 years, you get really good at it.


High Dive

At the pool, a man with a giant belly and thick legs and a hard chest jutting beyond his nose, his back thick with rolls, climbs the latter to the high dive on tip toes and walks to the end of the board as casual as if he were walking to the store.

His kingdom of fleshy sun stroked pilgrims splash and dive and holler far below, paying him no attention.  The life guards sit in their tall chairs ambivalent behind their dark glasses.  He bounces, once, twice, the board yielding to his weight, and hearing a gasp as the board snaps straight, he flies through the hushed awe, his body a molecule of wonder as he falls, separating wind from water, the crashing at the gate, he is encased with the punctuation of his grace.

He emerges to hear the final breath of their collective admiration, as he flashes a smile at the life guard who acknowledges him only by wiping his splash from her face.


If You Give a Woman A Beach

As I sit in the shade, I think I should be swimming. While swimming, I think I should be playing in the sand with the kids. While playing in the sand with the kids, I can't help but think I'd rather be sitting in the shade. While sitting in the shade, I think I should really take this opportunity to read a book. But as I'm reading, I'm distracted by the concern that with my nose buried in a book, I'm missing out on the day. So I put the book down and take a deep breath and look out over the beautiful scene. And then I think, really, I should be swimming.  


Visions of Sappho: Who But She



Then on the night she was gone




And who shall know the truth

Whether she was taken

Or given.

Whether she was liberated or forgiven.


She shall not be forgotten.


Who shall ever know









and light


] who

] but she


The Blue Painting

I found the blue painting in a box under the stairs
and spent the afternoon wondering what to do with it.  

I could cut it or glue it or write words all over it.
Or I could simply leave it how it is.

Does every piece of paper have a destiny,
the way Michelangelo believed of marble?

Can there be a right or a wrong when it comes to such things?
Aren't there songs that are better sung out of tune?