pounding Djembes

blistering fingers thrum chords of fire
are these the burning hands you know
the soul’s tempo like a copper pendulum, does gold resonate there
this virtuoso mouth of yours, has it stolen arias in vacant symphony halls
when lights are low and days have dimmed
has the rage of your wanting lips fingered around a contrabass anaconda
do motivations fade inside bitter notes when the maestros falter
is your wary body allegro when a feisty partner plays
do you weep for the swelling of spring songs upon winter’s death
written across sheets of white are ink spills to be erased
goat-skin Djembes thrust exotic cadence into hearts unprotected
does this pounding journey move along its own rhythm
or do lovers create your solos

Upright nude trio/charcoal

the way home

blue horsesyou blew in from the west
over the mountains
wild
yes, you were
fences knelt down before you
they knew
I didn’t
just how renegade you lived
painted horses tucked in your pockets
winged eagles in your arching limbs
I was
captivated by the movement of you
I was a farmer’s daughter
tending the domesticated
managing the meek
you yanked earth’s carpet from beneath my dusty sandals
my fall excited you
thrill caught the wet corners of your mouth
you kissed my naked feet
we pawed the dry soil with our dancing toes
the mountain’s other side
a mystery to me
you kissed me hard again
squared my trembling shoulders with the heaving sunset
unbound I wanted it all
in one delirious grab
I could have flown away with you
but
their cave-black eyes pressed to mine
like canvas prayers sailing to heaven
wet udder tears, careworn soldiering hooves
they knew not the way home
I did

I. Doe and Deer II.The Littlest Dear

 

I. Doe and Deer
deer familytoward the back end where the trees grew thick
and adjoining woods within range
she moseyed about the lawn

a pair of leggy fawns nearby
one did not roam far
the other
well, the other
scampered, hopped, sprinted, leaped
jumped over a hedgerow and disappeared
my mind yelled, get back over here!
I held my breath


moments ticked by
measured by my desk timer shaped like an egg
there to ensure I vacate my studio every so often
over those bushes with a freewheeling bound

she pranced back into view
so confident
her sister
remained clinging to mama
with just blades of grass between
all the while

the doe continued steadily munching
taking no notice of the staying
or the leaping
she was a constant
and they were not
at least
not for a long time, yet…

II. The Littlest Dear

there was a young deer
though there were many others
none were like this one
her back was not quite right
things that were supposed to be inside
were outside
she was dying
life was pooling quickly in those somber, black eyes
her last place of rest was against the cold cement wall
of my home’s foundation
I sat ministering her
misting her cracked muzzle
hoping to keep ignorant flies at bay
I rubbed the velvet between her ears, still so very soft
I sang songs, my words were choked garble
I wondered if she’d had a good life
I whispered goodbye
and asked anyone listening
to please take care
of this little dear

Deer Friends

art I. while in my studio thinking about an idea, I had the good fortune of a doe and her 2 young ones crossing my backyard, so very enchanting (as long as the vegetable garden gate is closed) – I went a little sappy and put a little smile on the frolicking fawn 🙂

art II. previously published during Xmas

both stories here are true…I think about that littlest ”dear’ more often than I probably should

independent together

repetitive pops in the distance
rapid fire noises
hot air popper blips bring me back
to college dorm days
sucking caffeine at 3am
studying at 4
sleeping at 5
waking at 7
firecracker practice
airborne bubbling sound bytes
too feeble for thunder
the kind you visualize with hydrogen kaleidoscopes
from my porch the night sky is void of color
cheap firepower like my thoughts
July Fourth
United States Independence
always thought being independent together was interesting
Grandma Gulli was born on July Fourth
she was independent together
her husband was an angry alcoholic
she had bigger problems than putting on successful fireworks
why don’t I think of her much anymore
I remember hot air popcorn
my mom visits her mother’s grave
and remembers
it was difficult for a long while
their lives were like firecrackers
bursts of noises
screaming
popping
hollering reds and oranges, flaming yellows
crying blues wet
Grandma Gulli used to work at a paper factory
I wonder if she ever thought about setting fire to the paper
watch it crackle
maybe take away the pain
diffuse her broken heart
with smoke signals
this July Fourth
I will remember Grandma Gulli
I will remember those who would have been tried for treason
I will be independent together

eagle/Prisma

eagle/Prisma

Eagle done in 2008 – original donated to raise money for local high school (all night party)
geez, I’d like to go to an all night party;)

Doing my ‘dad’ post for my father’s b’day – early July

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to all you DADS out there!