2017

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Click on images for enlargements

Qayaq
108" x 24"
Acrylic, mixed media on shaped panel

Qayaq

Always midway,
Pondering the sprays’ salty sting.
Poles in the black, how far
Back in memory does it reside,
Beside the bat-rays,
The shimmer-fish, cries of children
flying from the white dock.

The day before this sandy one
And the way the restless tides resume.
Are we
Without relief?

There is no stopping,
as the yellow paddle,
Moving, moving, moving,
It’s arc ,
the beginning and end of sorrow.

Silt Partner
69" x 16"
Acrylic on shaped panel

Silt Partner

Ribbon of praise,
Hardly a handful of sediment,
creekbed turgidity.

Days become seconds,
Waves washing the thrust and spin.
Young boy’s tousled grin,
A sodden, missed understanding.

Just legs shifting blindly,
Between Pthalo and Manganese,
Between terror and bliss.
That memory of the treetop view,
See the color of time,
If we only knew.

Guides to Enough
80" x 14"
Acrylic on shaped panel

Guides to Enough

Just
By itself, clueless,
what has to be included?
The irrelevant now?

Running spattered fingers
through sun drenched hair.

Sweeping sand, tears, a gift to that no-longer child,
one arm reaching over blustery sheets to the new lover,
shouting hello-goodbye,
I’ve known you forever,
And never again.

There is a tall white coffee cup on the wooden table.
That might be all.

But you must
throw your body

Over the infinite, craggy, black cliff.

Imperfection Carried
67 " x 12"
Acrylic on shaped panel

Imperfection Carried

Not what she said
Or knew,
For when is the wet turbulence
Without fail?

Chips of the heart’s wood,
The drought of feeling,
Nameless, forever, whatever.

Simplified beyond belief.
It’s a delicious, novel, snowy drink,
that will make your journey blissful.
Or
reach inside you where no one has seen,
Dance a wild dance,
A dizzying whirl of waves,
Until you know
You are not there.

Heaven Tipped Over
30" x 88"
Acrylic, mixed media on shaped panel

Heaven Upside Down

Everything is there,
Chinese circles, snap lines, a cloud of knowing,
Judgement, suffering, texture.

In a different time, a wind-blown bicycle ride.
Does it all relate?

There are no questions,
Just a mustardy flow of answers that
gather in the gut to a gentle hum:
This and that.
I see out the window.
She left when I was (too) young.

Soft breathing is
Where it goes,
Now.