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<!--Generated by Squarespace Site Server v5.8.4 (http://www.squarespace.com/) on Tue, 08 Dec 2009 12:17:40 GMT--><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><title>Dedication / Mini Bio</title><subtitle>Dedication / Mini Bio</subtitle><id>http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/deidication-mini-bio/</id><link rel="alternate" type="application/xhtml+xml" href="http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/deidication-mini-bio/"/><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/deidication-mini-bio/atom.xml"/><updated>2008-05-13T03:36:11Z</updated><generator uri="http://www.squarespace.com/" version="Squarespace Site Server v5.8.4 (http://www.squarespace.com/)">Squarespace</generator><entry><title>Mini Intro</title><id>http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/deidication-mini-bio/2008/2/3/mini-intro.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/deidication-mini-bio/2008/2/3/mini-intro.html"/><author><name>Doc Op</name></author><published>2008-02-03T05:06:47Z</published><updated>2008-02-03T05:06:47Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>Kirk Jordan (b 1960)&nbsp; is a musician' musician* who&nbsp;lives with his wife and three daughters in Central Arkansas.&nbsp; </p><p>* People who know Kirk, do not think of him as a musician.&nbsp; That is because Kirk does not&nbsp;play any known instruments.&nbsp; (He does, however, hear the most incredible music inside his head ---&nbsp;&nbsp; Something like Arabian-Celtic Rock, or the older hymns as sung by the trees.)</p><p>As a musician who can not play any instruments, Kirk is forced to work out the music in his head through other means.&nbsp; He is a photographer by trade, and a poet by disposition.&nbsp;&nbsp; As a photographer, Kirk knows the ropes.&nbsp; He knows what his pictures will look like before he views them on the back of his digital camera.&nbsp; As a poet, he's lost.&nbsp; Kirk likes writing poems for the simple reason he has no earthy idea what he is doing ---&nbsp;so it still feels dangerous and fun.</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><span class="full-image-float-left"><img style="width: 196px; height: 300px" alt="Intro.jpg" src="http://startledbyexistence.squarespace.com/storage/Intro.jpg" /></span></p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>This site holds what would be one very big book, or - a series of books born of a common source. &nbsp;Sometime before the last millenium I gathered together most of poems, along with a number of transcribed cassette-journal entries (those given to &quot;odd thoughts&quot; )- then threw them together in a big three-ring&nbsp;binder.&nbsp; I called my&nbsp;book &quot;Bones in My Soul.&quot;</p><p>As a photographer I am intrigued by the stuff and light and sight and consciousness.&nbsp; When contrasted with the material world, we tend to think of light as &quot;lite&quot; - that is, airy -- kinetic, and without dimensions.&nbsp; But given a contrast to a non-material soul, <em>light</em> and <em>thought</em> and <em>dream</em>, take on the weight of syrup.&nbsp; Then there are those ideas that live in us with such force that they become like bone.&nbsp; Beyond that, I am given to idea that that the realms of sense and spirit are deeply twined.&nbsp; </p><p>It &nbsp;appears that I write in waves: The following is a quick chronological guide to&nbsp;my life and the stuff you may enounter.</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><strong>With a few exceptions, the works </strong><strong>in this volume belong to one of&nbsp;four periods. </strong></p><p><strong>1980-1989. </strong>age 20-29. Esoteric mumbo-jumbo from a weird guy on a bike with a tape-recorder. &nbsp;Epoch closes with marriage and the need to get real. </p><p><strong>1990-1991. </strong>age 30-31. Took a college class in poetry. &shy;&shy;First attempts to distill mumbo-jumbo into coherent forms. Epoch ends in diapers and&nbsp;strong body of poems.</p><p><strong>1997-2002. </strong>age 37&ndash;42. Kids now feed themselves. Started with an effort to reclaim old journal entries. Followed by a explosion of new poems and an effort to remember the intermittent years of chaos and glory. </p><p><strong>2003&nbsp;and beyond.</strong>&nbsp; The poems have slowed to the point of rare.&nbsp; New enerigies given to the <strong>Mighty Works Project</strong>, a photo-based email highlighting the ongoing artistry of Jesus - the Word.&nbsp; (If you would like to be on my photo-art email list, please contact me at&nbsp;&nbsp; <a href="mailto:mightyworks@conwaycorp.net">mightyworks@conwaycorp.net</a>&nbsp; .</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>To all those who take the time to walk with me for a step or two along the way:&nbsp; Thank you.&nbsp; I appreciate your company.</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>]]></content></entry></feed>