Sander Roscoe Wolff

Birthright
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

This eternal night dissolves,
Consumed by dawn’s desire.
The sun’s fire burns away
All remnants of yesterday.

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Amber Eyes [Barney & Miles]
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

The cat is on the window sill,
Still for a moment,
Except for the end of his tail.

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A History Of Madness
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

The cigarette ash burns long as the song plays out on the stout man’s handsome victrola, turned softly toward the dawn. Music becomes a pawn in this game of life. His wife, a slight thing, wrings her hands and cries with eyes full of tears. Years pass and no one knows of the faded memories of seas and songs, of travels beyond this conduit of moments. Tents rise, and nomads rest, the dust and sand caressed their skin and eyes. Horses and camels with detailed enameled reins spit and whinny as the sun lights upon the face of Albert Finney as Geoffrey Firmin, drunk on loss and draped in ermine, waiting for Jacqueline, beset by ghosts that never rest. The faded streets that run along these ancient ways bring faded days to faded ends, resplendent in the dust of history. Continue Reading »

A Glimpse Of Promise
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©

We welcome unexpected winter births
in this cold country: A new warmth
delivered in our midst. Continue Reading »

Last night I attended the opening reception of a themed art show called Home and/or Homeless. One of the three jurors were in attendance, as were many of the participating artists. I found it fascinating that, even though there were an amazing variety of media and concepts, the entire show felt cohesive. Photographs, paintings, sculptures, mixed media, and installation pieces lived comfortably together in the gallery space, and outside in the Sato Garden. Continue Reading »