Poem- The World of Things

I’ll admit

I’ve never believed much in the human endeavor,

but have striven

to find my place

in the world of things.  Fleeting,

full of folly and joy,

our living evaporates like bird call,

            beautiful and unintelligible—

the mind breaks against the skull

            until the tide rises,

and we learn to touch each other with the reverence

we’ve kept hidden

for roses tilted forward to the nose

or furrows opened for planting.  So I’ve got nothing against

the joys of touching,

gentleness, or the urge to be fair,

but I can think of no better compliment

than to be kissed by a tree.

Poem- Prism

Prism

Light

pushes through

the thin veneer of pigment, granules, some

pulverized dirt

drifting on the river, it hits the canvas,

and returns to us

through the prism of the painting.  And so it is

that when we look upon it, we do so

not from above,

like God upon a river,

but like a fish

from inside.

Digital Watercolors- Self-Portrait

I sketched this out last month on watercolor paper, then imported it to Paint Tool Sai and went to town.  Perhaps 1.5 hours on the sketch, and another 3 or 4 on the painting.  Make of it what you will.

Poetry- Words Not Spoken In Anger, But With Greed

They did not,

though they said they would.  And the threat,

once spoken,

would not go away,

but festered

and sickened those dreams I had.

So they left first, though in truth

they were never really here.  It was only

those stakes with pink ribbons, set like grave markers

that showed their presence.

It was I

who left.

And these years since

when it seemed all this had been forgotten, or never been, or been discarded, it was I

who had been sleeping, I

who had been…

                          not forgotten, but left

to rest

deep within the cocoon

of those dreams

I myself had abandoned.

8/30/11