Showing posts from July, 2018

Rose Gold and Pewter: Learning to Breathe in Grief

I've been trying to learn to breathe.  I'm very good at holding my breath, and rushing myself about from here to there to somewhere else.  But drinking water, and breathing air always seem profoundly new to me.  

So there I was, walking with the dog along the river, watching the red-wings do their thing, thinking of nothing much, when it suddenly occurred to me 

to be  
a writer 
is to aspire 

to the spark,

and the fire. 

What human wouldn't want to know 

the solitary crow,

me nots. 

and four-o-clocks.

I've recently finished a commission of several paintings for a doctor's office over in Junction.  Large pieces.  The daunting substrate and the big ol paintbrush sat there for weeks before I could bring myself to begin. Somehow the stakes feel so ridiculously high, they dwarf the sky.  In general, I'm comfortable working small: small poems, small paintings, small gardens, small dwellings. This works well for someone with OCC, (Obsessive Cr…