Category Archives: Can’t put Anywhere Else

uptight angels

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there are explosions outside my window this night
is this what Francis Scott Key heard
great booms
could be thunder claps
I’d love to see sprites and elves on this darkened day
did you know sprites and elves hover above the clouds
they mess around with the angels and the saints
red sprites and blue elves
lightening firing electricity
enough to piss off the winged folk
not nearly enough to rattle Zeus
he knows it’s fairy playin’
Zeus is a cool cat
angels not so much, they don’t like when their curls go flat
maybe that’s the problem with the world
too many uptight angels up there
and down here

Angel Cone

Angel Cone

angel cone created before Christmas and previously published…a guilt story behind my cone angel…sorry grandma

Bluesman

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Soul decanter
fluid fingering
pouring
velvet rhythms
transported
to another smokey bar
for us
cool blue nectar
will continue to flow
that is
the eternal gift
a passionate soul leaves behind

Guitarbot/Prisma

guitar guy picked with pencil months back while listening to Sinatra and Ella

orientation

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when two human beings
cherish each other enough
to link as one,
the only orientation
that should matter
is that of their hearts

Piggyback/acrylic

frog and friend (detail) painted years ago

And to all you terrific moms out there, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

the ocean’s power

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twenty lifetimes of burden for one to bear
is unjust
life asks so much of some
while requesting so little of others
the waves you cherish
float sorrow along
when you’re ready to let go
let the bad memories sink
to a place where they can no longer drown your thoughts
or consume your heart
perhaps there will come a time
where the waters won’t be so tumultuous
peace will ripple
and sailing on a cool breeze
through silent ocean blue
an aqua-eyed mermaid
with delicate feet
and hair spun of flaxen gold
will find you
welcome her with open arms
allow yourself
happiness
and the power of
the magical ocean
find the peace you seek

dolphindolphin created with markers, a touch of acrylic and some ‘ocean’ water 😉 for an upcoming project

cliff driving

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breaking inside
so this is what it feels like
not so bad
I can ride this out
my Harley is jacked
chiseled with painted flames
and gassed up
plan on doing the 218
you know, the black zigzag along the Hudson
when me and the Harley squeeze
the sharpest cliffs and steepest drop
I’m gonna leap off the saddle
and let that tricked-out bike fly solo
there goes my pain
crashing with mortal heat
into the frigid river

bike babea bicycle she rides, but we can pretend it’s a big, awesome Harley

Thoughts to Nepal – may the death toll stop rising and the injured get the help they need

life is a line

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we sometimes spend our lives concerned over –
being first on line
choosing the right path
towing the line
being offline
being online
going down the wrong road
border lines
bylines
lineups
crossing the line
traffic lines
skylines
tree lines
the waterline
the shoreline
outlines
tan lines
following dotted lines
our waistlines
defense lines
taking the shortest line
getting wires crossed or knotted up
sniffing lines
hem lines
panty lines
firing lines
signing on the line
communication lines
wrinkle lines
writing lines
lines of demarcation
timelines
fault lines
waiting in line
making headlines, avoiding them
picket lines
yellow lines
assembly lines
coloring in the lines
cutting on the lines
perfect lines
making beelines
memorizing lines
first lines
last lines
stepping out of line
lining up
drawing lines in the sand
pickup lines
party lines
lines of crap
a line of bullshit
lifelines…
the only line missing
is the only line that matters
it is the line cut into our flesh upon conception
the thin, supple line that separates our life from our death

there is a line.
walk it well
cycleLife Cycle, acrylic on paper painted thirty years prior

beautiful Cyrano

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it is easy to imagine
you hiding down below
beneath balcony shadows
in the dark velvet grass
like Cyrano
confessing his love
hiding his sin
concealing his flesh
his wracked passion floating up
to Roxane’s heaving bosom
ripe to receive
the soft erotic words
the raging love
the chiseled form
but she doesn’t desire
the beautiful man
whose imperfections bind his soul
whose fear knots the chords of his heart
anon
the goddess embraces clarity
but it is too late
the beautiful man can no longer speak
his desperate lips have been forever silenced
had he not feared the light
he would have been dazzled

Gethsemane/acrylic

Gethsemane/acrylic

another painting from yesteryear

Oh, come all ye faithful

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Oh, come all ye faithful
to the hand of metal
to the arms of action
to the shade of mine
Oh, come all ye faithful
do not look away
do not compel
do not doubt
Oh, come all ye faithful
join the chain
join the spirit
join the mask
Oh, come all ye faithful
you are blessed
you are one
you are more
Oh, come all ye faithful
the time has come
the moment near
the foretold primed
Oh, come all ye faithful
on the water
on the dirt
on the cracks
Oh, come all ye faithful
leave your flesh
leave your blood
leave your ashes
Oh, come all ye faithful
where is ye heart
where is ye courage
where is ye faith?
Trapped
May you dream of peace in the night and in the day and all the moments in between…
Detail from acrylic painting circa 1990

Job Box

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Long ago
letters were thoughtless
compartmentalized
in walls of wood
lined in metal
alone as they were
dull

strung together
blossomed
broad thoughts
narrow concepts
soft guilt
hard passion

letters
singular
sideways upside down
gathering residue
together
prescient

wipe clean
return home
job box
alone again
’til evenings events
rally
once more
job boxMay you dream of beautiful transient letters making gorgeous journeys…

Above: Long ago, individual metal letters for traditional typesetting were kept organized in job boxes. The boxes were actually drawers that slid into a larger metal cabinet. Today, these boxes are considered antiques. I was given a plain wooden job box in exchange for a painting I did for someone. I painted the box and added my kiddies plastic toys, when they no longer had need of them. 🙂

A Good and Decent Bowl

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There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
it held soapy water
for a tiny infant
when her mother feared
the bath too large
bowl bath

There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
anchored beneath the chin
of a little boy
when his stomach feared
nursery school, too big
max bowl.

There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
it held on the shelf
for homeless socks
when they feared
losing perfect partners
bowl with green sockAnd so is the life
of a good and decent bowl

Whose owner feared
new children were akin
to delicate birds
and nervous newts
before they grew
too tall and too strong
too fast
delicate bird

May you dream of a good and decent bowl that cares for treasures, both small and too large…

Please note though I’m all Italian I’d like to offer a big, beautiful, festively green Happy St. Pat’s to all!

Photos: Delicate daughter first used good and decent bowl when she was extremely delicate, Nana’s helping hands. Big son used good and decent bowl in mornings – he suffered nausea for 2 months at the start of nursery school. Now the good and decent bowl houses lost socks that dream of being reunited with their significant others. Perhaps one day we’ll bronze the good and decent bowl, as is the good and decent thing to do. 🙂
Art: (both critters endangered) rendered with marker and pencil a few weeks ago for a special projectÂ