He doesn’t care about crowns…

King of the Jungle
he did not name himself
he does not know he is a king
he does not care
his only kingdom is survival
man gave him this silly moniker
for his magnificence
like we determine all specie classifications
to list below us
we name them all

for the natural beauty, grace and strength
we do not possess
but only become so with great effort
not like the animals
who fly, leap, run, swim
in a way that makes us
desire trophies
reminders of our manufactured superiority
and how we do love roaring
we are the rulers of this earthly kingdom
you are only, King of the Jungle
because that’s what we named you…
Lionesslioness created in Prisma pencil 2007
(used ref photos – wish I’d kept track, this may have been from Nat Geo?)


Creating Creative Space

Sometimes, inspiration comes in the shape of serendipity…

The inspiration
I was recently contacted by a cutting-edge company called WeWork asking if I’d like to share a post on my ideal studio space. This company encompasses a fresh approach to ingenuity and I was glad to learn such cool places exist. They offer creative co-working space in a collaborative working environment. You get the benefit of both internal and external energy as their studio spaces are located in several major cities.

The serendipity

My mother-in-law just sold her home in New Mexico and will be moving into my home, specifically, my studio space and adjoining music room the end of this September. My art belongings and I will move down into our finished basement. If all goes as planned, we will build a new studio at some point off the house somewhere…

Studio sentimentality
Since finding out my mother-in-law’s news, I’ve been contemplating what my studio has meant to me while also envisioning a new space. My blog’s header image is my current studio. I chose that image because it’s the heart of where I work. Each time I step into my studio and close the door behind me, all my life hats come off, except one. It is behind this studio door, in this most intimate space, where I do my best thinking, painting, drawing and writing…

studio red wallThe 30-second tour
In my studio there is a place for everything and the places are many-
cubbiessupply binswheel drawershelvesThe open areas keep the covered walls of inspiration from closing in-
studio angle table,easel,deskThe most important thing about a studio and I know not one creative mind would disagree with me here is lighting–there must be abundant natural light or the kind that lets you believe you do. In the evening, if I turn on all the lights in my studio I have faux daylight-
tableMy studio is my second home. Once inside, I’m transported to a place that allows me to think and work regardless of what’s happening on the other side of the door or in the world-
desk, laptopThese notes are the greatest source of inspiration for me-
max notecar noteFuture space dream…
I’ve loved this studio space. It has been very kind to me and I shall miss it. But I look forward to gaining a new space. When I researched the WeWork website, I found their interior studio designs very inspiring. I may try for a more clutter-free arrangement next time around. Right now, sky is the limit–that is–once I escape from the basement. ;)

Thank you,

no mint breeze in the rain

many have written about rain
how the rain makes you lonely
endless drops echoing in an empty chest
the cold of them creeping up your shirt
shudders into the back bulge
the obvious dullness of the sky
over-burdened clouds unable to ease the mind
wind maybe, no breeze
delicate mint leaves collapse
they don’t know the end of it
never do
endless repetitive pings on pavement
no playing on the drooping lawn

  sucking mulch beds
engorged suburban septic sours
the smell can be bad
so the rain
it is wet
it is sad
it is dark
for a big-eyed kid waiting for the storm to pass

boy with green glowing eyeswhy this face? I’ve no idea…more crayon playing and yes, it was raining.
For Fawn – may rain come your CA way
(there is happy rain, I was in a melodrama moment-perhaps I shouldn’t write while drinking red wine ;) )


the moon went down on her
his blueness coursing through her iridescent skin
erect emerald blades
witness to their coupling
a night detached from light
shadows beneath stone bridges
connecting underwater canyons

God, how she wanted to
pull the moon into her raw body
until light streamed from every natural opening
and piercing wound
she shuddered at the thought of such passion

you lustful creature of twilight
the moon groaned into her nape
knowing he could not stay and be remiss of the world
he could not rend himself apart from this rapture
dare he collapse into primal want
fires beyond that of the sun
a moonless sky

without moonship
no citrus ring focusing the infinite indigo

misalignment would soon curse the living
Charon would fall deaf to the dead
pushing souls further from the sky
and closer to hell

embraced beyond his strength
arms of wisp thread weaved their spell

he fell wholly into her
disappeared that thick wet night

only the keen wolves
cry at earth’s behest
raising a sympathetic afterglow into the blackness each eve
that the tides know when to ebb and flow
and the world knows when to rise and fall
Moon's Eve 2Moon’s Eve created at 4 pm today

On My Way to Shangri-La

I’m on my way to Shangri-La
  utopian state
carved deep within a mountain valley
and steeped in lush promise

if I enter this harmonious climax
I’m not sure I’d be willing to share
my lips might seal like Tut’s tomb
toward those who covet rejuvenation

or perhaps I’ll surprise myself
enlightening others of a place where
words find themselves and settle into their meanings
wine, nectar and willow wind for all

maybe I’m not good that way
tempted by a steaming paradise born of sublime art
to wet my back and feast my eyes only
might be asking too much of me

what good all this knowledge
if only to give it out and end up with precious little
“to the victor go the spoils”
fantasies are kindled by motive

an exotic kingdom of one
defining a life’s work like treasure in a gilded casket
while existence survives in willingness
but fortune bears better threading

I pray on my quest to Utopia
I remember the warmth of flesh on mine
as all tombs are eventually unearthed
and all fabrics eventually disintegrate
Gold Egyptian in marker a few weeks ago.


if your image crashes into my brain one more time
can I have you transported
far away
Siberia perhaps
as long as no vampires can get at your beautiful neck
no, no, that’s Transylvania
I’m messed up
you’re occupying too much real estate in Grayland
there in my head, a dictatorship
I’m the only who gets to decide who enters
and you really must leave
these red sneakers aren’t working
that thrice heel clicking thing is bullshit

maybe I could just jar you like a pickle,
but you have no gills and pickle juice smells funky
you smell so good
damn, outta my head you and your good smell

I can see this is going to be another long night
you refuse to leave
and I really don’t want you to go
old piece created back in the ’80s under the influence of Interview Magazine – sort of a mash up between Brando, Dean and someone who was in my head at the time …obviously my attempts at white highlighting back then were ineffective ;)
I used reference images for this but can’t remember to give proper credit…

again – sorry for the cussing

Homage to Doctor Moreau

“The crying sounded even louder…. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice.”

“For everyone the want is bad. Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth.”

“An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.”
insane lioness singerQuotes from the transformative pen of H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau

my creature gal created about 3 weeks ago with no hard-core animalistic intent