Winter is a time of skies Jan. 15, 1994
Winter is a time of skies
of winds that blow through empty trees
and pipe their plaintive solo melodies
with crevices of house and door as reed.
All foliage, excess verbiage,
has fallen by the way.
The unencumbered beauty
of what lies beneath
is now revealed.
Deceiving vegetation no longer hides
hard stone or rugged branch.
That basic truth may not be quite eternal
but will outlast more fleeting seasons
than we shall live to see.
We too are shown for what we are inside.
We too have shed our leaves and bloom.
And must be loved
therefore not for what we were,
outside,
but for what we were and are,
inside.
Erika Bizzarri 
So wonderful to hear your voice! Did you record this today!!! XO David
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Hi. I was able to access both the new blog post and the audio reading. No problem. I think it’s wonderful to hear your voice there. We are always glad for a chance to visit. I hope Arancia doesn’t make it too difficult to see you again soon.
James
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After admiring your artistry in so many different media—drawing, watercolor, photography, words, collage, and a form of assemblage of objects that belong together that combines all of the preceding—I should have known there might be another ready to emerge. Despite our many conversations, I had only heard you once at a public reading, but it was not of one of your own poems. This was worth the wait! Although I know I will continue always to hear your voice, to have a recording like this is a special gift. More, please.
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