imagining rain

the sky showers down in shimmering rivulets
cleansing the earth of leftovers
something we planet guardians don’t do well
cloud masses end load the cycle
pouring so hard sometimes
dearest pets have been given over to frame the scene
the water is exquisite in its clean smell
vertical rivers stream to feed the parched
those below drink the life giving stuff and absorb the mist
beyond illusion or imagery of form to paint this memory
it is light itself
breath from heaven

yet
here I am, older
fancied up in a lace-lined number for celebrating
heels, so I stand fake slim at six feet tall
makeup applied hoping I might fool some years away
and all I can say about this gorgeous rain is
CRAP
my makeup is gonna run
MarilynMM is a 2′ tall print from a litho plate I painstakingly etched in college
I used this particular art thinking how we can sometimes be
a bit outside-centric rather than inside-evolved

(I’m ashamed to admit I’m guilty of this from time to time)

MM’s photo reference from the talented photographer Philippe Halsman (1906-1973)

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

blur

dancing in a deluge
freezing wet arrows pierce your body
everything blurs
could go exploring in the rain
determined to the ends of the earth
driven to the bottom of the oceans
like a wide-eyed child
searching
always searching
for a meaningful destiny
you don’t accept plain living
a grand enough purpose
even after the cold water
has cleared your vision
and washed the mud off your face
boy with green glowing eyes
wide-eyed previously published

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 🙂

no mint breeze in the rain

many have written about rain
how the rain makes you lonely
endless drops echoing in an empty chest
the cold of them creeping up your shirt
shudders into the back bulge
the obvious dullness of the sky
over-burdened clouds unable to ease the mind
wind maybe, no breeze
delicate mint leaves collapse
they don’t know the end of it
never do
endless repetitive pings on pavement
no playing on the drooping lawn

  sucking mulch beds
engorged suburban septic sours
the smell can be bad
so the rain
it is wet
it is sad
it is dark
for a big-eyed kid waiting for the storm to pass

boy with green glowing eyeswhy this face? I’ve no idea…more crayon playing and yes, it was raining.
For Fawn – may rain come your CA way
(there is happy rain, I was in a melodrama moment-perhaps I shouldn’t write while drinking red wine 😉 )

uptight angels

there are explosions outside my window this night
is this what Francis Scott Key heard
great booms
could be thunder claps
I’d love to see sprites and elves on this darkened day
did you know sprites and elves hover above the clouds
they mess around with the angels and the saints
red sprites and blue elves
lightening firing electricity
enough to piss off the winged folk
not nearly enough to rattle Zeus
he knows it’s fairy playin’
Zeus is a cool cat
angels not so much, they don’t like when their curls go flat
maybe that’s the problem with the world
too many uptight angels up there
and down here

Angel Cone

Angel Cone

angel cone created before Christmas and previously published…a guilt story behind my cone angel…sorry grandma

Rubbing Earth’s Elbows

My Friends,

the sun rubs earth’s elbows
the moon caresses her back
the wind feathers the soil
the rain cleanses her wounds
the fire titillates new life
the ice sculpts her bed
the clouds find purchase
the mountains alight
her muse sustains us
in perpetual current
as dried leaves fluttering away…

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

Thank you. May you dream of the seasons – old friends conversing at a tea party graciously allowing one another time to tell their tales…

Galeen in Autumn, collage created a few months ago. Published in a prior post.