RSS Feed




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







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







1.20

Illustrated torso in progress







12.26

Upended by grief.

Need magic to heal broken hearts.







Read Recent Entries    Read Previous Entries