The Observer's Guide

golden world
pond and sky

field of rocks
and trees

and us

the sky
a handbook
for painting

special acknowledgement
the making of copies
printed or written
sound or visual

any system is obtained
from the library of earth

content becoming an observer
understanding first steps
in using circles
colors

drawing objects
time and
incidental information

some objects
eclipse observation

all of us
wandering
looking up
the others among everybody

a high-school boy
a rug salesman
a housewife

a map of a photo

the pattern of place to place
the majesty of everywhere
the use of what and how

little knowledge
prepares us
to see many wonders

what to look for

the changing positions
the artificial brightness

finding your way alone

your first look at the heavens can be exciting
revealing features as luminous as the sun

such light changes sooner or later
mirrors of a gathering
kept in and wheeled out

power of details
banded clouds, markings
the fluctuations faint and small

when conditions are right,
an observer can see some features
more distinctly than they appear
in photographs

the eye is in the present instant
a camera could never see

a serious high

lenses and mirrors
hundreds of instruments

books on booksellers
organizations of organizations
members observing members

news of interest
to promote interest

and yet
we are held and belong
give and receive
observe together

three types
of fast-moving objects
we gather
certain of the sky

this provides necessary information
explanations of where and when

and hundreds of fainter objects
to be found

a convenient size
as faint as can be seen
the wheel is rotated
within a window of time

eyes
two small refracting telescopes
together each gathers the light
a third element is necessary

our view
highly useful
for learning
the various constellations
and vast star fields

closer they reach
one 2 3
with their objectives
for time

times vary
the whole of sky equal
heavy
tired
the effect of unsteadiness

a support
the moon as seen
with unaided eyes

principles of reflecting
light is gathered
there is no lens,
the eye makes no difference in objects

removable degrees of desire
seen through a telescope

this comfort
coated with light

falls out of adjustment
realignment is necessary

gather approximate conditions
and the faintest explanation

a mirror
a form
the distance between
the eye and the image

with any given magnification
we divide into fuzziness

dew
incoming light

support for
the basic path

become distinctly practical
depend mainly upon the objective

the objective may depend
upon atmospheric conditions

show fine detail
divide the objective
between objects
that can be distinguished

separate objects
about 1.5" apart
one arc
a horizon to the point

the average unaided human
can distinguish an objective
and tends to spoil it

a steady motion
light, portable
rests
in a certain way

in simple form
it circles
to a resolution

fleetingly, years edge on
reduce to neat points of light
dance when touched

spell out the advice
of later

oh earth
celestial equal

a yardful of sky
here is a review
directly from the center

the horizon
is completely different
as if seen from outside

never below
never above

a person can see the half of it
this seeming motion

an enormous wheel
turning us
as they move around it

here is the revolution

the changing speed
of each evening

minutes
that rise and set

time is the sky
that night changes

drawn in a constellation
each hour
so distant
they look motionless

only centuries
could change their shape

but all is change
motion does occur
against the background
of each day

circle the sun
stay tilted

progress is the
(opposite of)
orbit

an avenue
with ancient signs

we describe locations
the area of the body

time
a clock drive
trained on the same

moving against
a trail of light
bright and full

seen through a clear, dark night,
change steadily reaches us
as if from a stream

a nearby street
a horizon
a park
a neighbour's living room
clouds of a fair day

lost in the glow
of a nearby street
a shiver

rising wind in trees
a broad horizon
a park
a hedge

light from a neighbour's living room
the scattered clouds
of a fair day

the atmosphere
a glittering spray

lost in the glow of heavy traffic
heated air rising from the roof
boiling a broad, open horizon

lucky to see more than his building
warm clothing in summer
the puffy sunset
likely to linger

turbulence in a quiet atmosphere
the difference between warm and cold air

slanting through air and dust
moonlight

as we leave house
our eyes adapt to the darkness
we avoid looking at bright objects

observation as it should be

a small flashlight
averted vision

look a little to one side
of the signposts

know the pages
the year when each is located
the bright part of a faint photo

in relation to the other
it is easy to become lost in the multitude
to find and to hold patterns
squares, triangles, circles, loops

we want a look at the famous
an almost straight line
a center
the key to decide
which side

help from the point in the sky
exactly overhead

big distance

half of this
is in the referring
to these spans

make a yardstick
the diameter of the sky

any distance is minute

holding a position
to avoid confusion

the thought you have found
in the same star again

as you face the sky
the pattern matches

a sparkling cluster of sky
dismantled dust
setting the level

portrait taken through rotation, 
movement

the location where
neighbourhood lights, trees,
and buildings interfere

the legs of vibration
the counterweight,
a cradle

dismantling, then orienting
set any result
on that axis of art

look as you move
slight readjustment is good enough

mark the pavement in some way
with free motion in any direction
scan the sky

there is the train
on time
moving to compensate
for earth's rotation

be seen upright
move until you find focus
know that particular job
sweeping for an unfamiliar object

low,
the power needed to darken the sky
creasing and sharp

the sun
an accessory many have found satisfying
at the same time it limits

one night we may be
able to come apart

from the heavens comes noise
pointing is not accurate enough
line up to be found

we work our way to
the comfort in any habit

a sky inverted
the same part seen again

a constant good
fatigue and loss of
control

watch half the night
for some delicate detail
the observing eye

look a little to the side
the sensitive part of the mind
first experiences
the field never looks quite the same

the make-up of change
a confused little experiment
that works

drawn from the universe
one poem for everything

this half of me
setting circles
he plots courses of change
maps are prepared

and the limit is showing
all that can be seen
is detailed enough

if lines were printed on the sky
the earth would show designations and
names in a constellation

our modern charts retain only
the stars, which everyone knows

sky a grid of lines,
long lines drawn between poles,
lines drawn around the city
stating its sphere

distance measured in minutes
a sign eastward
a meridian that passes
between and through
the point

the Sun in March each year
the right of written form

imagine a call
to look at objects near us,
and suppose we don't

what is it we find

finding the square
facing the necessary
we come to the position
as precisely as possible

we are equipped with circles
we set the so-called
hours and minutes.

as the nearest star gives in
get in the center of the field
and watch the hour circle
that should bring the low point higher

at that moment
time is familiar

watch and agree with the evening
adjust the point

find from the hour between you
that elusive promise

division
two small points omitted
two magnets in a clamp

turn and there is
a different method
a movable circle
get in the center of the field
to read the other

this moon
exquisite clarity
shadows look flat

our nearest neighbour
revolves at a distance

the orbit changes
time takes us tilting about
a surface visible each month

the light of it all
the fierce rays
reflect only one part

a thin bright crescent
of a life

halo of high school
the average September
the horizon known
the ecliptic rides
the summer high
odd shapes rise or set
the dense time
the glare of mountains and craters
set in sharp relief beyond the stage
the considerable safety

a filter, a cap
the desired way cut down
to only one

the sensitivity
of a reduced range

more can be seen
beyond what is serious
with us together

go forth

in
all
our
lives
lies
an
answer

one is drowned on the dry surface
among the flat areas of interest
the long straight line
from left to right

a fault perhaps
extending the map

the great plain areas
bear some resemblance
conspicuous and
never seen

pen part of a splendid range
run around the wide scene

a chain of daisies
hundreds of miles from the surface

a relatively soft interior
cooling the ego
fragmented depression
the signs to check against
the play of sunlight
as shadow passes through

from the left
enters one two
or even three minutes

plenty of time
passing through
refracted
in a coppery hue

just at the edge
of the appreciable

now and then
hiding briefly
called at the instant
of disappearance

checked out
a short-wave radio
a stopwatch
the essentials

time signals the things to do
drawing a sunrise
ever-changing rays of activity

the face of anger
the tongues of incandescent gas
a giant sphere of motion

we orbit about the surface
in a path that is not perfect
but changes at least

come equipped with a prism
no such device can be bought

it is better to take a chance
homemade is enough
a cardboard disk with a hole
cut in the center

the definition
high enough to show it all

the safe way home
a screen held in back of the eye
don't try
look through by gazing up
watch its shadow
hold a card up
exposed film
projected onto sleep

speak
heating the atmosphere
with odd disturbances

they disappear after a day or two
but the journey cycles on
through the argument

near enough the end
the shimmering distance

the aura of a day or so
clothed with meaning

the ordinary to
look forward to later

unrivaled in splendor
it is exactly enough
to reach at least

as a chance to see
to be seen
can last only minutes

the last thin crescent of
a sparkling bead
a fleeting flash
a flamelike path

the glorious filmy glow
stretching out from the sun

a few minutes alone
decide what you want
and get ready to pick another path

chaos is a drama of the mind

stages of a lapse
this series of possibilities
the onrush of a white sheet
the so-called past

the shadows and sunlight
filtering through trees
the progress of this moment

i pass through a different color
blue, low, scattered

and yes the sky is blue
because blue rays scatter more

notice how the changing sunrise
gives us the glass
how one droplet
is always less than half

an airplane in reverse
sun dogs around the house

let us return from outer space
see the sunlight before dawn

thin patches of nothing
the foglike glow we may become

the rays
like searchlight beams for meaning

drapes overhead
like windblown ribbons
that seem to radiate
from the night sky

light reflected from the curtain
the ghostly, constantly shifting pattern
of this grand spectacle

rays
flames
glow
types of rising dawn

the counter
brightening light
seen when you look for it

past large but shrouded
familiar generally
not sure of the small points

they revolve
and follow to the end

moving through the months
reversing changes
i see the sunrise a few times a year
and call it a morning

the same for decades
but changing constantly

we start to find a name
in which to store the information

but no one knows exactly
when to look beyond it

photos taken in the light
faces bright and seen
are but one small feature

such is planetary work
the long focus

experiment
be an airless rock ball
at the right time
in the right place

a vague passage
the phenomenon known as a year
rolling slowly through you

this peculiar evening
hot clouds of rain

the coming of summer
an excited imagination
a glimpse into the known

one reddish day
longing for the other

the means of revolution:
time and love

utopia
so indistinct and large
until today
streams of life
visible through the dark blue filter
exciting small planets within

the face of a difference
we know where to look
and find the mistake remains the same
it is about distance

dance to discover
every day in the year
look up at the
open sky

it requires
a ring of dustlike particles
the cloud-like structure of color unexplained

a rare night
frozen by steady yellow light
beauty in two shadows

i am a bear
as active as ice
good with a dark line
a division

as the planet tilts
the cycle repeats
years paint details
and demands

an ancient well
another month

the magic of a space
ringing in tune to the years

a morning
for longing

air scatters

the discovery
of presence

nothing except this story
it takes me home

a long loop away
the regular visitor suddenly returns
takes the names
we could do without

our uncertain origin
sunlight thrown from the night
looking for better

store up light
follow the hazy shine
chase the tail
stretch out and sketch
the tapestry of a regular day

this body
may vanish for good, we predict
start hunting a month in advance
the course of a mind sans anatomy
the cursed composite at scale

stone and iron
garlic and oil
the fiery trip
through fragments
of these few centuries

some trails are short, blue
crooked or broken, and
in their course
we are found on the ground
in peculiar shapes
fused, or melted
easily confused
we who want to identify
in early morning
our part among the stars
this is it

left us for his own section of the sky
radio tuned to a distant pizza

the volume rises sharply
good morning,
see you whenever perhaps

if art falls in your vicinity
try it
trace a line and name it

but we broke the drawing
tended to one radiant point

muted luster
tuned eyes
glittering noise
clustered in verse
made up dust
glowing in meter
a cupful of earth
surfaces ether

they shine by their own light
the same ancient figures
strange animals since changed
but the names linger

the professional calls them by names
these have no significance
arbitrarily outlined parts
only then can he find his way around
the conveniently reduced scope

with an almost unbelievable
crease in the eye
doubt may turn to certainty
dark lights the way too
smile it out

see the peaceful fiction
look through your neighbourhood
toward the center of our boredom
inoculate against it

some interesting
distance apart
blue, red
blue, red

what is needed, or was
a number on a door

how to feel
a faint call
with short focus
a wide field
time serves us
still and clear
the moon especially steady
twinkles at me
a quick glance
now and then
a wink
the light dims

stare at one side
and it will double
good eyes can bend the limit of beautiful
the optics of separate ideas
the glint and sparkle
as we suggest what might be

enveloped in another fine day
magically alone
a little round cloud
lost in belonging
i am sure of it

in spectacular cluster
around some center
butterfly wings
lift
predict again
continually folding

serve with optical aid
cut up the contract
turn it to honey
be mistaken
for a beehive

the small dot of nudity
the stolen search
for embers of another world

send to headquarters their so-called light
these mean curves
used to predict the maximum tolerable brightness
their time recorded
as a challenge to experience

some pairs are hard to separate
beauty in a word
the swift obscurity beyond this moment
manifestations that burst forth in late august
flare up from a summer of numbers

before clothes
had been assigned to him
it all fit
the split near the beach
the light curve of one page

we get it wrong
hear a threatening growl
in the purr of space

the advent of detachment
the island house
the elliptical individual
our own familiar universe of distance
the only place that matters

let this go
our dust in diffuse darkness
the sword of the keyboard
the vacuum
brought out in time

a tour of this second
time in an envelope
catastrophe sealed within
the great loop
the will to classify the present moment

death can bring into view
the beauty in any condition
work your way to nearby thoughts

tipped into a vision
a glowing mass
my body surrounded by neon fog
veins a thin splash of light

you know
the usual

nodding sharpens lead
demands no great discussion
says go
draw without stopping
be comfortable
be as simple
as pencil kneaded into paper

let it all be interesting
let it be easy
let beauty take care of itself

uneven floors
the impression is opposition
nothing is level
until one day
we glimpse the markings
the shadows
the delicate color and form
of the stage

backyard pose
alone

like film exposed longer and longer
i register the reason why
but cannot see it

a mere speck
a home is a box to fit into
be the cat
move outside
yield the control that holds comfort
find it again
keep turning

the dry pen still writes
squeaky wheel turns
rose glasses (if you wear them)
hold some sort of infinity

devices such as care
make little difference alone
there is a motion needed
an instrument to be played
care is a guide
an occasional corrective touch

films and takes
roll commercial
am i acceptable
interesting
can i have it all
no cuts

before nine
a lens on sand
a song about small objects
quiet fictions
take pictures but don't develop the film
a chain of creases
the trails will teach you
this time

sweat as an aura
smells that billow and flicker
when a shower is due
keep a little dirt and pain
those essential telescopic memories

the promise
of an ordinary day
of time enough for slow attempts
of some panchromatic film
and a good photo of this shapeless haze

how right is it all
a remarkable gust
sure of each sky

i remember the house
and how to get over tomorrow

i am a wheel
i keep turning
discover a kind squeak

a place devised
to make it easier
to act as if
the beginning continues
the next day never comes
there is no chasm or bridge

is progress a clock that keeps you inside
a sky of any shade
buried below the horizon
their hand on a circuit within
the difference between daylight and evil

light as searing discontent
the same old lifetime of pleasure
we eventually want something
more or less
to see the shadow following us home

a home offered under numerous names
peace in one turn
the fuss of focusing again and again
holding your specific purpose
farther out from the awning
let the rain come through
filter transmit and absorb

words used to cut down
the glare of lighted eyes

glass planets in a store that feels
perfectly safe and neutral

another second chance

a feeling too big to take on vacation
the would-be slacker whose purpose peaked
or slid out of the way
home boarded up
the wind trapped in the prism of his backyard

a chant set to the tune of your itch
ignore the curse
venture out into the year
arrange a safe place for the winter

the window
the open end of a life

against dust made we the oath
covered the mirror
let dew evaporate

with broken pieces in a
separate, padded box
remember our misalignment
so common and ragged

take from the earth
one tiny piece of grit
then touch your face with your fingers
feel the clear water and dry air
assembled and taken apart
read the book
with eyes closed

subject of a scratched mirror
the last job on earth
never try to force out what is wrong
breath stuffed in a cardboard tube
beyond the care of patience

let go
of the electric stress
of work
of making a calendar
for the entire galaxy

anti-work, etc.
rich catalog of wasted time
making your own mythological origins
your more practical heaven:
the stars belong to everybody anyways

his following
pared down to a plot for elsewhere
symbols are explained
how a single thought
represents the design of the custom
altered lines
drawn to mythological figures
the march to the end of february

no telling apart
flame and ember
variable as boundaries are

give me luxury in hades
let me see
live as a pupil

stand and listen
voices a nib can trace
a spark for the phoenix

bored caves now empty
at the library life is normal

asleep in our crater
our story evaporates

a gulp
a gasp
waves pass
wake up a new sculptor
of microscopic movements

he felt a peculiar calm
fauna extinct
he gave up on australia

how convenient that
when you are facing away
i can see this part of me
the invisible sphere
that cuts the line between us

a small time rodeo
magic of a chameleon
unchanged
music plays

among the sandwiches
a simple drawing
curtains, books
heavy sleep

shit escalates
care craters
the evening collapses
into a halo of frustrations
a circular serpent

flying horses cluster, turn
one homemade year held in sight
fish circle my ankles
painting me the sails
of ships that never were

we may know
our youth never ending
edit the story of self
remember years devoted
to naive reflection
countless evenings sketching
how to move on

a formative joy
a practice without an objective
a mind mending