RSS Feed



7.19







7.11


to whit:

Oh!
She hangs thus.
the stars humbled;
some remnant of blue in this night sky
embraces the moon,
a halo around the evening's celebrity.

We tiptoe out
poorly attired;
don't want the neighbors to see
this doughty couple looking up,
blinking sand from our eyes
and falling in love.

What is a recipe
if not a menu of experiences
and the good sense to
single out those
that taste good together.





7.10

and then
the fireflies became jazz
and under a full moon
lit up like
Coltrane's saxophone.

Oh I sway,
this is magic
a warm illusion
that oddly
makes me goosebumpy.
Temperature notwithstanding.

I know you are there,
a rumba of air
moving twixt those twinkle lit bugs.
I miss you.
Come to me in sleep
like the piece we saw at the Met.
You said it would happen.





6.29

The Escapades of Odysseus 64x48





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







3.7

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





Read Recent Entries    Read Previous Entries