Tis the time – tis the season – this Christmas Season – let it be – FIERCE JOY – we spread towards those who shun kindness, humanity, and you know – all the ideals we as humans should hold as close as Jacob Marley’s chains…
peace, love
happy holidays
am:)
The Woodpecker
outside my daughter’s window, the woodpecker hammering the aluminum gutter
knows nothing other—than what he knows
this incensed bird will wake my teen who already sleeps fitfully
beneath the creatures who suffocate her dreams:
they claw earth; pollute water; rape land;
tear friendships; rend families; decimate futures
they alter climates
they type in ALL CAPS
the woodpecker continues his assault on the gutter outside my daughter’s window
if this red-headed madcap mirrored humanity at all, he might desist
but he doesn’t know anything other—than what he knows
the hammering bird hunts for his brand of love;
his brand of sustenance;
his right to expand his territory;
his need to collect like-minded-birds who would adore his amplified walloping
so, I must continue thinking of ways to deter him—or at the very least send him elsewhere
but how unkind would that be—he’s only a bird after all
the inane walloping is coming from elsewhere
(Prisma pencil pecker created about ten years ago)
I hope you’re all managing okay.
I take in every headline without breathing
Mrs. DeDeo rarely steps away from the classroom. Today she is needed across the hall for a moment. A moment is all Dwayne needs. He leaps to the front of the room body-blocking the chalked letters we’re supposed to copy into our marble notebooks.
With a spoon from his pocket, Dwayne excavates boogers while singing how he likes mowing down squirrels. We don’t believe him. Mrs. DeDeo returns. Dwayne begins mercy yowling. The fear in his voice chains John the Baptist between my ears. Imprisoned in one of Herod’s palace cells, John prays to receive Jesus’ blessing.
The following morning John will lose his head to dawn’s early light.
(I find joy in sharing bits and pieces of my childhood truths here with you. These memories make me smile – even the sad and odd ones. My inner-child lives as a constant reminder of humility and perseverance. Of kindness and compassion.
Each of our childhoods lingers near, our memories like shadows to embrace, to reshape, to share, to delete, to run from, to run toward…)
My flying squirrel was created with Tombow markers and Prisma pencils. I think he’s a few years old now.
Thank you,
am:)
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:)
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:))
anntogether 