Words blasted from the past

A piece from 2014 published in the Avocet…was it so long ago…


5 am peaceful

wishing it were contented spirits
dusting the cement grass with glitter
not winter’s freeze

my dachshund’s paw prints
sweet as a postcard
one might send a faraway lover

I linger in the numbing quiet
let the moment warm this blanketed silence
hushed low like swimming beneath water
where despair drowns then floats away
in bubbles and dancing reflections

don’t want to twist the frozen doorknob
and go back inside
I’d love to remain out here
5 am
with the sparkling dust
and all that glitters
in the beauty of this silence
when the world is so peaceful

Rudolph Hug

the original marker art that posted along with the poem in 2014


hope you’re all managing these days
am:)

Sir Top Hat and Abe Lincoln

Sir Top Hat walked in a few years ago – an honest and kind critter with a passion for memorizing the storied history of Abe Lincoln.

Sir Top Hat only surfaces above the earth during the month of October, and then, only when honesty is severely lacking.

am:)

Why Create in This Woeful World of Ours

“With all the darkness that’s going on the world, you can look at the darkness, just
don’t stare. It will make you crazy. It will make you cross eyed. It will make you
what it is. The solution is to create magic, dance, sing, love. Create environments
where you can create joy. Because you can create joy.” —RuPaul

Occasionally and sometimes often, I remind myself why it is that I create critters and creatures from the comfort of a warm and comfortable studio, sleeping dachshund at my feet, food in the fridge, clean water at my disposal (for now…) while man’s madness blinds him to the fires burning the land, the books, the beauty, the ballot boxes, the bridges, the rainbows…

Reconstruction Writing from My Kitchen Sink


Long ago, I began what I affectionately titled my ‘kitchen-sinking file’
an ever-growing repository to hold my murdered darlings —
the words I couldn’t jettison into the infinite, all-powerful,
sometimes destructive, and often just downright crappy
void of invisible voices

For this first short reconstructed piece, I wanted an environmental theme — Though the merged thoughts are depressing, this was an enjoyable exercise to do. I hope to create a few more of these pieces in the future.

Reconstruction 1:

NATURE VS US
we seem to be fighting against her

only one of us can emerge victorious

I.
while we busy ourselves engraving our legacies into granite
the concrete angel arms waiting for our bones fade away
beneath the ebb and flow of our disbelief

II.
DELETED as we delete the things we detest

III.
beyond the horizon, where the hot lands submerge
he rolls his great mane to rest upon the blackened grass south of the Sahara
      the great space around him vanishing as he sleeps

IV.
slipping and whipping down the burning slide
saddled to a cement slab in sun dried: Any Town,
Earth County
ZipZapped000

V.
obfuscators of earth’s guardianship whose clasped hands grip limitless wealth
      (go ahead, toss those deposit boxes and time capsules into the rising sea)

…and they tossed their wishing well coins

VI.
sometimes our beasts go silent
sometimes our beasts escape
most often they starve to death
despite their accumulated knowledge

VII.
long ago, a pregnant virgin cradled my childhood faith

VIII.
I must remember skating on Papa’s ice pond, and I must always pray for spring

——————————————————————————————-
captured footnote: X——-X
entry: byte.non–f (fire drive destroyed 2025/alt recovery file cap 219) 5Z 7K 24X: date doc//
October of the 6th route//2030
——-
archive:context txtvolume79033cvx130..:///Rational science had been crushed beneath the Mad Believers (4fT99)//and those by their side squatted on the world… during this period, fear and hate thrived and love un-lived
Entry200060002324//eventually The Mad Belief (ipsumibidMXCII1112) was forgotten ///recollected during nature’s self-purge/mankind no longer present… ———- end entry…datapoint…X
recording 54567 —–someone screaming on the floating island
collect years, savaged roots, where are you all???end transmis
/’’’tend the children well/’’’’’ they begged, sow seeds, plant saplings
you there – apologize for unsalvageable soil. unusable water
earth’s clock solar-powered
no backup
no backward
angels’ concrete dissolved

Hi there,
How I wish there was more love flooding the world rather than tidal waves.
Nonetheless, I’ve anchored the drywall in warm hues.
(Blue DragonUmp latex satin too depressing)
Here’s a brush of autumn color for your chilled porch.

artwork created a few years back, updated recently (snake & squirrel created with Prisma & watercolor marker, snake background created with Canva/fun program:))

From my dragon to yours

holidragondragon / dragons [ drag-uhnz]
noun

are cruel; bring good fortune; are the stuff of legend; are born of pre-scientific conjecture; are endangered; protect the gods; hide from man; are heart balms in stuffed lizards; are vicious plastic forms on gaming boards; have multiple heads; are purple singers with green polka dots; eat humans; protect mankind; have wings whether invisible or not; don’t do transactional relationships; are powerful cinematic stars; are shy; are pure of heart; have Sir Sean Connery’s voice; have honor; have the name Draco, Lachrymose or Puff; carry your fire.

Though their remarkable eyes are permanently shut, each vivid bright eye (they have two, they have twenty) follows you through a transparent scale. Your dragon always sees you even when you are alone in the world.


From my dragon to yours,

Merry Holidays to you and your loved ones

Be safe, be well, enjoy some flaming rum punch and never stop embracing your fire…

(image above – Holly Dragon makes an appearance every Christmas)

Sharing My Mask With You

So very honored to have my acrylic portrait, RED, included in, Shards, Glass Mountain’s online magazine.
Click text to visit this amazing journal!
Click image to go directly to, RED
I hope you are managing through these difficult days❤️

It’s National Poetry Month!

Well, my friends – I stopped advertising my illustrated poetry collection a year after it came out. Like so many of us, I’m not great at self-promotion. Since we’re stuck between walls right now, I’ve adopted a devil-may-care attitude. At least for the moment😊

Just click on the pic or here and it flies you to Amazon for the ebook version and whatever remains of the printed version. (My book also rests on this blog’s first page) The bulk of printed books are sitting in boxes in my closet. My mother and I were planning to joyously peddle them at fall festivals. I haven’t had the heart to go at without her, though my lovely daughter has volunteered.

Once we all get through this insane period in time, and we will, I’ll peddle away come Autumn. ❤️

Stay safe🙏
Thanks and prayers to all those leaving the safety of their walls to help others. Thanks to those going to jobs that keep our world moving… Thank you and stay safe.

elf not on a shelf

I re-post all my little holiday drawings and illustrations as we race ever closer to Christmas morn!

Bessie’s Echo

While my darling daughter was checking out my ‘Published Writing and Art’ page, she informed me that many of the links no longer connected to the published pieces. In an effort to correct this, I went through the entire list and connected each piece to its corresponding blog page, as well as re-linking to the journal or site where each was published. This is the one that got away. It was published back in 2017, by ‘Miracles Magazine’ (A generous friend who still works for the magazine had asked me to submit work). I’m re-posting my poem, ‘Bessie’s Echo,’ so the link can be updated. Thank you.

 

Bessie’s Echo

in the distance
faceless proclamations bounce back and forth between the rush of cars

years ago
would’ve been herds of cattle trotting for lunch bells ‘cross the road

perched on
a yellow Adirondack chair on my front porch, I drink flavored seltzer from a tumbler pretending it’s Dom

spotted bovine hooves
only echos now     like dairy farmers spirits loading Bessie’s milk on old Erie railroad cars

bound for the city
retired clanks and clatters float toward the bright sun that once fed fat cows golden grass

little birds
with bright yellow bellies flit by my front porch saying their good nights

or goodbyes

cows

cropped portion of a sketch drawn about ten years ago, someday I must redo this little sketch, the dang eyes are lopsided!

Flames of Joy

May the flames of JOY burn brightly in your heart this holiday season❤️
Holidragon soars every Christmas😊