side by side

we hope our children view the world through rose-colored glasses
shades
pray they live well, so their buckets won’t need lists
green bucket
we’ll try to respect their deep-seated thoughts
car leg
and teach them to respect those who have gone before
pray
they must always believe they’re more magical than mermaids
lil mermaid
and understand playing dress-up is fabulous, as long as they remain young at heart
money bat
we’ll tell them it’s okay to think upside down
Caro upside down
and they’re the apples of our eyes
apples
and when the world gets too big, they can hide under a blanket
eyelashes
and that same big world is full of wonderment
max laugh
we’ll let them sit in a red chair and do absolutely nothing
max red chair
and tell them they don’t have to smile all the time
painting image
as long as they keep their heads above water
max head above water
we’ll hope they love each other enough to hang out upside down
upside downand sideways
butt heads
but above all that they’ve learned–
love simply means standing side by side
carmax hugwith Caroline attending college this fall, and Max a high school junior come September, I’ve been waxing nostalgic
I published this post last year but have been thinking about it lately
damn, time wearing his ankle wings and over-priced Nikes sure does fly
xmas 2105

Spirit mural

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

gently now

humble citizens eternally petrified 
warm mammoths ice entombed
broken vessels anchored deep
hard lessons in dying
peaceful silence

go gently now
gently

stallion skeleton

the old pyramid trick…inverted word triangle pointing to nowhere, or is it nowhere?
my, my, my crazy WP day with media snafus, love technology when it works:) though I must say the WP gremlins were fabulously helpful

our story must not end here

riding the heat of dawn
we insinuated our bodies within one another
I presented myself to you
a wordless story
whispered in raging lines
fertile were my curves

from which our children sprang forth
multitudes

spilling over with god given wealth
a rain of ages

carving the cradle of these infant sons and daughters
my breast milk abundant
nourishing young
influencing adult
satisfying aged

long and beautiful
as I was
as I am
beginning
to end
our story must not end here

Golden Gyptian

if you suspected the Nile River, you’d be correct 🙂

 

heaven or hell

it’s probably a big mistake to be pressing these keys right now
there are so many things pressing inside my chest
is it possible to come out of this
as one person with one dream
when everything leading up to the dream is fantasy
the impressionists began as an anonymous group
maybe I could be unknown
a founding member of the “what the hell” group
we could laugh and never care
about anything until we have to
and at that point we’d only need worry about two options
no more than that
heaven or hell
I’d simply select
which ever one has the best wine list
and maybe a tattoo parlor

Angel Cone

no curtain call

we weren’t destined to meet
a black bottle, a few flowery touches and
cold cubes that mimicked hot dice
rolled a bet with just enough scratch
for a room with bad lighting
our frantic hands
stripped away more than labels
our hungry mouths
fashioned words on stained cotton
our entwined legs
beat on dark motel velvet
but a new day’s integrity

revealed our imperfect forms
stale breath buried any lingering hopes  

you were in it for the quick sale
I was in it for the everlasting bargain
we were at best
a performance piece
with no curtain call

swirl skating

swirl skating

of something more

this has to be something more than the dish
serving the meat my mother so tenderly cooked for us
after being on her feet all day
something more than my dad telling us his ice truck story
and how he began work at seven when he believed Staten Island was Italy
this has to be something more than my daughter
not yet realizing just how beautiful she is
or my son who embodies the compassion of a soul lived
much older than his fifteen years
or a husband who supports my artistic demons
this has to be something more than collecting these memories
like paperclips in a box and storing them
this has to be something more than an appreciation
of life
this has to be love and living each moment
of that expression

Max and Caroline

Max and Caroline

I hope you all had a wondrous weekend

faith and a full cup

I believe in quiet miracles of love
selflessness of the human heart
the breadth of compassion
the faith of Heaven above
tucked in floating clouds
and the people below
colors of rainbows
both on this side
and the other
I believe
one day
we will

fully realize
our humanity
and peace
will settle
across the land

duck apple
“…Faith is believing in something when commonsense tells you not to…”
–from the movie, Miracle on 34th Street

To those who celebrate, Happy Easter
To those who don’t, have a lovely weekend

art titled, “Friends” – created at nine years of age, when I had much shorter hair and much longer sleeps 😉

tomorrow…

Sad Eyes/Prisma

I ache for something
what could it possibly be
I have so much
but I ache
still
there in my soul
a pinch
reaches out for my heart
straight up to the brain
then
out it spills
landing
here
the ache
it’s still there
in here

these words didn’t do it either
guess I’ll have to try again
tomorrow…

 

oatmeal domination

somewhere in the universe
beastly animatronic appendages
dragging empty buckets the size of blue whales
scoop up wild oats more numerous than grains of sand
they dump these omnipotent hauls 
into two monumental receptacles
the first –
is a sweet, crunchy place decorated in swirly G’s
where smells of cinnamon and dehydrated fruits abound

the second – mind you,
casts a far more intimidating shadow
it is a dark, mysterious warehouse
where rancid pigment and gooey binder can be sniffed for miles
it is deep within the bowels of this cloaked place
that all institutional paint is manufactured
and the nefarious beings behind this demon depository 
have but one scheme in mind
oatmeal domination

these ill-natured possessors will not rest
until the interior of every hospital, recovery outpost and learning facility
has been impossibly plastered in their colorless aberration
depressing, hideous, stomach-churning
oatmeal paint
Karole in St Luketen-minute sketch while my mother-in-law slept in hospital bed yesterday
she survived cancer number 4 – a tumor was removed from her bladder, all seems well
she is home now happy, drinking lots of water and enjoying her colorful walls filled with beautiful things
those oatmeal-colored hospital walls are a thing of the past
but her care – doctors, nurses and all involved – was fantastic – wonderful people