2.26.2015

after a poem by Ono no Komachi

too soon the bloom
has slipped from the stem –
a light lost over the deepening
sill of evening

and back and forth,
the beads are slipped slowly
down the thread while I
wait with the rain

2.20.2015

that absence hangs around,
a lone note held –
b-flat drifting long after
the tables have emptied

a blind man would have known
to find a way away from you
but fire makes us stupid

and before this space was vacant
it. was. on. fire.

things are so much clearer
when seen in d minor –
it’s a particular diminished
shade of the blues

but the show’s over even if
the smoke still lingers
and there’s no flyer even
to remember it by

but darlin’, there’s no
forgetting that heat

1.15.2015

Some broken things, in the right light, still shine. And in a perfect wind, the fragmentary might fly. But mostly we forget this and gather too closely the sharp edges to our chest – seeking solace in those pieces that are left.

fire and wings

It’s not unusual for us to see Anna’s hummingbirds through the winter and several neighbors keep their hummingbird feeders up for them. So while many birds are feeling the pull of migration currently, I’m blessed to live in an area where we’ll have these little scraps of winged sunshine still with us in the colder months.

all that glitters

I’m finding art to be my much needed “de-stress” meditation recently. For a few hours every other day or so, I’ve been losing myself in line and color.

It’s been a blessing to not be thinking about anything other than what’s happening beneath my pen or paints. And I’ve discovered that the more I do this, the greater my patience grows and I actually take my time with each piece. And I’ve been enjoying challenging myself to paint things I’ve never painted before. Like this goldfish, which will be a gift for a wonderful person who loves goldfish and whose birthday is coming up soon.

For a while, I think, the poetry will be on the sparse side while I enjoy the paints and ink. Be well!