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7.24

I am writing
here
I am.

Fingers dazzle
triumphant with alpha
bets.

It's night here
and I am
tired.

Of not knowing
how people
feel about.

Is it
touching that?
Or, is it?







7.21




the land of oz
A collaboration
Of
Two close hearts
Four eyes
Four hands
One soul







7.14

I'm never alone
When the rain falls
Bouncing, leaping
On and off
leaves, roofs, flowers,
And memoirs
Writ indelible on my heart







7.13





I have been working on this painting for months, trying
to find both a solution to
the design and narrative that have come to me shrouded;
whose voice I hear
but whose visage is kept from me
and must be imagined.









After looking and looking at the painting
and feeling a favorite image, the small flower
was out of sync by size and temper,
I have made my own decoration,
imagined as
if I was making a flower
to stand for the florid moods of my brush.







5.20

Untitiled WIP 50x60 Absorbing aboriginal work into a piece about mermaids







4.26




In all the words
Are pictures
And in all my brushes words
Whispered
Gaped
Sighed







3.17











In all
the sky
where
the stars
the moon
the sun
alight
love lives
and escapes
a narrative
as perfidious
and wonderful
and impossible
as all those
aforementioned glitter
are unattainable
to the touch.







3.1

The Ides of March approach and with them the I'ds as in I'd have been happier if. My painting brought it to mind. you see, it has no course other than the act. We could be so happy if only we'd dare.







2.22




The addition of yellow to the bare edges
and the diminution of the lower heavy stripes.

thus simplifying some clutter
giving more weight to that which is left.

The bottom scumble was intended to
prepare the area for overlay of yellows
and terra cotta red, but I was surprised
this afternoon by the rightness of it.


so far................







2.7

I've been searching for a new path
what with the brambles of current life
stuck to my shirt and socks.
Oh, the thorns of the rose, etc etc.

Having the skill to pretty much make
what ever suits me
doesn't fuel the need,
necessarily,
to make anything.

My studio is full of things
seen part way toward
completion
but unfortunately
all the way to fulfillment.

I'm not sure there's enough raison
to get to d'etre.

I just don't have an answer
to loss.
None of my art
brings either cadaver
or other loss to life.
And I might as well stop trying
and, instead,
settle down
and
wait
my
turn.

In the interim,
before becoming one with muons and quarks
my lovely and I are going
to Australia.

I shed thorns there once
and maybe
maybe
shall again.







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