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5.18

Today My jungle life







5.14

(a clear night, a dimming brain)

How many breaths have
Passed from these lips?
Floating into a shroud of dark sky,
They imagined the moon cared.

The moon belongs to me.
Though I shared it once and again.
I have lingered alone with it
And our secrets are solemn.

I know the stars. Distant. Mysterious.
Taken by the day , returned at night.
For me to count them one by one
And with each accounting say goodbye.







5.11






It’s close enough to call it a painting
It tells this story:

An ascent
Or
Moving away

From
Something dead
And long mourned







4.28






This happened 4/26/18

Olivia Rebecca







4.15








3.8

more pity party- March7

its snowing
a white blanket that shushes
ills comforted to sighs
pangs made small
losses buried
outside hungry birds find their twill
and I listen
heartened.







3.7

General McArthur's Dirge

Artists
apparently
fade away too.

It's not the picture
I painted for myself
working in a dark corner

a black hole
from which no art
escapes.

tethered to me
whereas I would have
unleashed it

proud to march
like an Easter parade
participant







1.31



continuing to develop this painting
and earlier state is just below







1.21

Dreams. . Fought my way to wakening this morning. Trapped in my old studio. Bunch of others were working there. No place to set up. Kept misplacing my paints. Having fits. Now with coffee in quiet kitchen. This is better.







1.20

Continuing memories of down under







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