Kinder Hours

New flash “KINDER HOURS”  and one of my illustration’s “UNIVERSAL WIZARD” together
Words and art keep each other company during this magical holiday season
Published in an excellent zine, FREELIT

Kinder Hours

Across the bridge where snow meets the sea, I comb my hair while wishing I were a swan.
 His broad hands stroke my delicate neck, gentle and curving on the point of a star.

I wake. Those same comforting hands are strangling me in the emptiness of shadow. Moonlight gives him the power to see my neck breaking, my jugular turning deep violet like the purple bed sheets of his new lover.

There was a time I would have gladly fallen beyond salvation. I’d have welcomed the pain. A tailspin drop to his bed, his mouth, his body. He touched my flesh and treasure books lost their gilded words. Warm gold lines melted into my bones. His shield of dragon horn turned silk upon our pressed bodies. He was magnificent. Those beautiful lips once whispered, “I love you.” 

The simple act of survival taught me to fight back. How many times must I do battle. I’ve grown weary. One weakness bests another. Pain rouses conviction, but I no longer possess the courage to face morning upright.

If my wand held an ounce of magic, I’d demand my mind dismiss its owner of memories. Dreams collect in a thick midnight veil, and waking hours are cloaked in cold light, light we once practiced magic in. A barred owl screeches as it lowers for a kill on the dark flattened tracks. The silver train streaks across the sky, but I’m not in a rail car. Trapped in a place that’s damning me, I will not adjust to the light. The sun is much too bright. It scorches earth and steals water. Charred holes open up into blackness and I watch all the white rabbits disappear. 

In darkness, I might remember the moon in kinder hours. Gentle arms cross my body where we lay together. Gold melts into my skin. His hands caress my neck. I scratch at his eyes then fly away.

Universal Wizard illustration

created with prisma pencil

if only peace could be magicked

When I think of my children going into the world, I find myself championing humanity. I pray we never cease believing this: we are so much stronger than these acts of violence that steal innocent life and try to rip away our collective compassion for one another

The Magical Last Light

I’d like to share something that I’ve selfishly kept to myself for many years. It’s free and it’s beautiful.

My favorite moment occurs when conditions are just right: the sky is a foreboding grey, the sinking sun is well onto closing down for the day, and a gentle wind lifts the tree leaves like fluttering butterflies.

The moment begins when the sun’s last rays illuminate just the tree tops. Then it happens–lasting only a few surreal minutes. Nothing else can describe this sight except magical–the magical last light.
trees ligthIt’s truly spectacular. The interior light in my studio softens even the dogs take notice.
dogs studioIt’s like leaving Kansas for Oz…
color treesI hope you enjoyed this moment as much as I. If you take the time to seek out this light, you too will be reminded that all things are possible–even peace on earth…

Reworked old post from 2014, I thought fitting for today 🙂

The Legend of an Angry Catwoman

My Friends,
The legend of Wampus Cat speaks of a Native American woman of breathtaking beauty who possessed a passion for knowledge. A passion that would ultimately bind her in fur and claw.

Wampus Cat
Daring to learn the sacred stories of magic, she stole under the cloak of night and mountain cat-hide to eavesdrop on tribal elders. Medicine Man sensed something amiss and she was soon discovered. As punishment, Medicine Man transformed her. With one stroke of his mighty hand, her body absorbed the mountain-cat hide she wore. She morphed into a wicked creature destined to roam the woods and hills forever alone. She never acquired the knowledge she so desperately desired. She was educated in rage. Her mind knew what she’d become. Forever…

So if you venture into the forest deep, and should you hear the crack of wood or the soft patter of a two-hundred pound cat woman, you best run. There is no smooth-talking Wampus Cat – you’ll only piss her off.
Wampus Cat Thank you. May you cuddle with sweet kittens and pampered pooches. And hopefully, Wampus Cat stays in the forest.

Wampus Cat sketched today while beautiful snow was falling. This sketch is unfinished. She needs  work and I’m unsure about the tail – could look unnecessarily ‘phalic’ (might be a bad thing for an agitated woman). Final render will cover Wampus in black fur and white teeth 🙂

Hear the Bells

Dear Friends,
A Christmas song that remains near to my heart, like the satin chime of a throaty bell is the tune, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. The passionate words were written on December 25, 1864 by a master of American poetry, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Wadsworth’s prose were polished into a shimmering melody by John Baptiste Calkin in 1872.
Though Wadsworth penned this song beneath the onus of war, I like to imagine it represents worldwide peace arrived at nonviolently…
Christmas BellsI love playing “Bells,” on my piano (albeit badly). I don’t practice as much as a should. Hmm, is there a New Year’s Resolution ringing in my ears? 🙂
my pianoThank you. May you fall asleep to the sweet lullaby of magical bells…
Galeen’s Bell Song rendered a week ago after plinking the ivories awhile. I couldn’t get Rocky the Shepherd or Mojo the Dachshund to pose, so Snoopy signed on for a very reasonable rate. 🙂 

Praying for Holiday Magic

Dear Friends,
When I was a little kid, I used to sneak down to the small créche my mom set up every Christmas. I’d kneel before the nativity scene and pretend I was a humble shepherd. Swaddled in midnight darkness, I’d whisper to Baby Jesus that even if I didn’t get the rabbit and the banjo that I asked for every year, I’d still be kind and good to others.

Today I’m thankful for so much in my life, but maybe I’ve become complacent in my gratitude. Perhaps this year I need to be a humble shepherd. I will kneel and pray that the magic of this holiday season touches those in need of magic…

Sometimes even wizards hope for real magic…
thinking wizardThank you. May your dreams be fills with the magic of slumber…

Thinking Wizard created yesterday for a good friend. He will be auctioned along with many other items to help raise money for the Washingtonville Wizards Senior Class’s Graduation Celebration.