The End of an Era

I am moving.  Fixing up the studio.  

8.5.11

8.5.11

The longing of Spring has sunk away

Now

I dream of Winter’s sweet, quiet solace

The cycle, though known, seems unjust

In its movements

As if it could stagnate

And I expected nothing

But I need her changing expressions

To make sense of my body

To compare my mind with Nature

What a joyous difficulty we have

To keep growing without question

To reflect the changing leaves

Like lakes and ponds and seas

To remain

Rising, reaching

Shaping like a tree

Poem 8.7.11

8.7.11

One,

You remind me

Not all verses

Are so dark.

Some lie gently

On the red tips

Of your sun-kissed

Black hair. 

Not all spirit

Is indistinguishable.

Beauty can be bold.

Trust can be new.
Anger can be quiet.

Love can be proud.

Creation exhibits joy

Coming forth from

The shadows.

Another figure in this world.

Another actor.

A battle

Won.  

COD

I went to Cape Cod.....

The beach set-up

Some inside joke drawn inside

Oil

Oil

Oil

Oil

Mixed media

Mixed Media

Nude

This post has been a long time coming.  I made this painting in a few days in late May/early June for the Cavity.Lab Tinbergen's 4 Questions show.  Props to my virgin model for being so inspiring and cooperative!

Some July Poetry

7.11.11

Breath

The ultimate drug

Each desperate inhale

Is relieved by an exhale

Length and lethargy

Steep each sigh stronger

Coloring its agony and ecstasy

Cracking between bones

Lifting up layers

Waves of emotion

Crash down memories

Building sandcastles with Dad

Washing over

Sleeping

7.31.11

There are nights

When the sky looks round

And we seem to know it.

We recognize its shape

And see the shell of our globe

Enclosing us.

Tomorrow, last year

Is so far.

A full revolution’s passed.

All has changed.

We’ve lost our King to another.

We’ve died and been born again.

The lagging, sober winter months

Are forgotten in the shadows

Of Summer’s hurried indolence.

The heat drains our chest

So we can love again.

Humidity fills our lungs

So we can laugh again.

We rejoice that tomorrow is not

The same day it was last year.

We respect all that has since been

For bringing us here.

We expect anything between

Nothing and everything.

Only then there may be sweet nectar 

Flowing from our tree.

There may be enough harvested

To bear the cold, coming months.

That will be enough. 

Anya's Song

I cut my hand....actually stabbed it.  Watch out for those avocados!  As a result I have not painted in a while but that will all change this coming week now that it has healed and I am going to Cape Cod with blank canvases for a week!  In the meantime here is a poem that I wrote this morning about my night last night.

She sang a Russian song.

Her fingers danced on strings

Of a guitar already strummed to me

By a lost man we shared unknowingly.

Our conversation died alone

Glasses now empty once were full

Summer’s heat fell at her feet

And we all slept into a dream.

Why don’t you carry on? She gleamed.

But her smile knew the answer.

Our shared secret thawed in the snow.

Oh, was it fate that I would know?

The details float among the sea

Containing anger in their seeds.

We could together wade and sift

Turn accusations into fists.

We know no English songs tonight

As we are sleeping in this breeze.

So mend these wounds as we unite

And find the words within our ease.