needless to say – the gorgeous face here is my darling mother at 18 –
this piece is one of those experimental canvases – like picking up a pencil and doodling – unsure of the journey – but comforting all the same đš
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Tag Archives: journey
the fear of forgetfulness
buried beneath a storybook
sometimes it feels good to go a little darker…
‘rainstick’
not sure where this one came from-perhaps my own childhood brown-eyed doll experience- thank you
my spine unfurls
as I wrote this piece, I returned to the clean silence of the woods, like nothing else in the world
artless words
boiling bedroom thoughts
My body sweats like a cornered animalâ
one in full knowledge of its doom.
Are you mocking me from up there?
Maybe you know, I’m not supposed to be here anymore.
There is a need to escape.
Cross the land bridge before it sinks into oblivionâ
like the cornered animal with its inedible bones.
Nothing of value produced, save a pair of usable offspring, one must not appear completely heartless.
I do thank you for calming me this evening.
The wine bottle has poured dry and empty.
Closets are bulging at the seams with meaningless feathers.
The single-bulb, reading lamp is casting shadows longer than my pen.
Whatever my scrawl is this time of night, it is difficult to interpret.
And you, up there mocking meâ
allowing me to fantasize over hope and comfort and dreams.
In denial you are, the sureness of a life’s workâ
round and round and dumbly satisfied.
Well, how does this move you;
Your starburst shadow against the ceiling, long and leanâspinning, always spinningâ
begs for mercy and a final escape it will never realize.
baby mask
words are for stories
I am sorry for not following your footprints
you know how we want to blaze our own trails
I’m more like the one who hides in the wild brambles along someone else’s path
stopping to pick the gathering moss from my toes
hoping my feet will stain a lovely shade of flowerless green
so I won’t need to buy socks
(too often my happy spirit falls out my sock holes)
damn, I don’t darn well
I am sorry for not visiting your fine table at tea time
sipping is a lost art and I become dumbstruck at the sight of delicate porcelain tuele
I can cower behind a steaming Starbuck’s Venti
latte, latte, latte
blow the foam
watch me smile all day pretending I’m a writer
enumerating every reason why my work isn’t on one shelf
not one, that’s why I dunk three lattes
and seek out your footprints while no one is watching
still, there is my spirit guide
she drinks naught
eats less than sips
her curved feet are bare and beautiful
her wings are tucked around her disheveled robes
she is proud of her life
passion burns hot in her breast
the embodiment of joy in simple musing
she pulls me away from the wild things that grow on another’s path
she kisses my cheek, returns my black socks patched with green threads
then she tosses me back onto the road where I started out
allowing me no words for excuses
“words,” she whispers in her gorgeous velvet-throwback voice
are for stories
spirit guide sketched this past weekend while at a boisterous high school wrestling tournament
private island
on the small island where you try laying claim
breathing transports the flesh to and from the coast
you journey without compass of starlight
high spirited purpose often billowing canvas
effortlessly forward across wilding seas
spinning as she does
paths disappear in your wake
water eventually erodes the edgesÂ
no sanctuary exists for you in these pounding crests
settling upon an abandoned shell
placing it to your wrinkled lobe
you close your eyes, inhaling the ocean
 once more seeking out the peace of those crashing island waves
chiseled stallion manes
a grand canyon
opens upon herself
deliberate in need
a succubus of blazing color
lifted from sunken oyster shells
bewitched by desert suns
he, Bryce
wild stallion manes
chiseled of stone
breaking gravity
powdered blue with atmosphere
tawny bleached
breathless creations
we limited to human-ness
can only admire
skeleton stallion
many years ago, I saw the Grand Canyon and believed her lovely, but I was exceptionally amazed at the unusual beauty of Bryce Canyon, Utah
the background in this sketch is an homage to Bryce
