revelations

my beautiful mother coming home by week’s end, her road to recovery is still to be traveled

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for Lily

what is motherhood if not by your side
watching you my love
what is pure in my life holding by a wisp within your deconstructing body
sweet child how I need to scream inside the ocean
smack the gods
embrace the spirits
where you won’t hear my pain
these arms and legs of mine so powerful
if I could give them and live to hold you still,
carry you as I have done across these years
never with regret
all that I am
wrapped around your life
such beauty in your speaking eyes, your soul-plumped mouth
how you’ve grown these past seasons
metal-bar suns and rubber-tube moons following along your flesh
yet
you and I have traveled so much longer than they believed possible
now
you grow a bit tired
your little body weary from the outside
fatigue settling some on the inside where my care holds you together
but still fierce in your heart
in your eyes of earth
you are my rock
you are my joy
not in any time
in any space
of any moment
will I ever grow tired
of your heart living inside mine

Gallean with ragdoll

to my cousin, Marie for her beautiful daughter, Lily xo

songs of silences

deformed putty pink

robbed of warm breath

contorted sweet necks
tar bubble eyes bulging

frail unfeathered waxy torn

foiled unsung tiny raptors

never will gush
broad kite wings against the wind

meander upon the thermals

dead
before
winter’s white bone chanced a kill
stuffed down bright 
spring’s dark bosom

stalks cradled
strapped with dried fall grass

gentle summer kisses will not carry
overlapping notes 
sung in threes

new harmonies in pubescent throats

echoing from fresh limb to sailing cloud

undeveloped triplets all

delicate melodies
small and quieted

in the driveway
sad little chicks

stilled
 baby birds
in her songs of silences
nature candidly reminds us

she is both
judge and jury
warblerI wish this piece wasn’t here or anywhere else – but I hope it serves as a eulogy
for those baby birds – may they fly in eternal peace

art created last year for an illustrated project

The Coroner Bar

Maybe one day
you and I will meet at the Coroner Bar

it’s that cute little place
plopped between Dead End and Sky Street
the awning is blue and white
but it’s the famous bright light entrance
you can’t miss
once inside
your worries, your heartache, your pain
vanish

That Coroner Bar
is a magical establishment
the barstools squeak like angel harps
the dance floor is forever filled with folks
who swing lighter than air
I’m planning on throwin’ back a few
anisette to warm the soul
served in those gorgeous amber tumblers

After that
I won’t ever care about leaving
I’ll hear the music
drink up the laughter
claim a barstool
and spin to my heart’s delight

Amen

Winged

Winged

art previously published – it was between this angel or an angel who looks a tad devilish 😉

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.