Morning coffee on
this silent couch,

while bougainvillea
flames forth

between

July's bold
fiery life

and January's
bare twigs

of death.

"A STAR IS TORN"

"CITY SIDEWALKS"

"COLOURPLAY" (top image is abstract photograph of detail of the lower image which is painting--18 x 24" oil and acrylic on board)

"sweet and sour"

"WHEN DURANTE EMBRACED COLOR"

"HITCHCOCK'S BOYHOOD"

running for air, he sped lean on thick lawns of moss

and clover, felt green streaks of quiet amidst Catholic

terror and panic, constantly looked over his shoulder

for what he wasn’t certain but nonetheless the shadowy

gent behind the shower curtain pierced his mind with shards

of red rain and black vertiginous thought, blocked hard his

deep needed rest and thus blessed the tormented fat boy

with swirling unbidden currents of paranoid story and

crimson iron saturated droplets of grand murderous glories.

"he was always horny so i gave him a piece of my mind"

"UNTITLED X 3"

"A CHANT TO LEAP BY"

Real faith

 

is

allowing

ourselves

to know,

in our

deep

bones,

that through

unseen space,

we are

forever

free-falling.

"How Do You Sleep?"

how do you sleep
when dreams lurk

and pant on the edge
of blurred senses

like the cougar half-
hidden on the gray
boulder up there

(or the hawk aloft,
that scoundrel
cloud-kisser)

where only wind
and rattlers find
their strange

defenseless
belonging?

"surprise in the park"

"RIVEN by RIVER"

the River expands
with a raging
vengeance,

a gray liquid
animal he
threatens

our front door and
soon shall destroy
the house:

we scurry in panic,
search for sheets
and blankets

to plug the cracks
and keep us safe
and dry.

Suddenly somehow
River shrinks

to its usual
tranquil flow,
its normal self,

one hundred feet
below our empty

street, and we are
stunned yet safe
again, but who

on earth can
tell us how,

or when menace
may rise from
beauty once
again?

"EGYPT IN CHAOS"

"MOMENT-US"

"untitled"

"WHEN YOUR BLUES BEGAN"

When your blues began
To melt in that precious

Light there was a scent
Of  fresh roses in
The darkened room

And I heard

The softest

“alleluia”

Like a hidden waterfall
Splashing on moss-
Soaked rocks,

It Soothed
your aching
Heart.

Oh, this unseen woman’s
Hushed, and silvery

singing echoes

Through azure
Oceans of
Pure feeling.

"TRIO"

"When your blues melted in the precious light"

"DISSEMBLING"

'untitled'

"TROUBLE BREWS"

"YES"

"GEORGIA IN HER MIND"

"BLUE CHRIST"/"SACRIFICE"

 

          SACRIFICE

 

they say Christ squandered himself

completely, a living miracle

of creative surrender,

heart cracked so wide open in love

like a rabbit thunked and crushed

by a marauding unfeeling 10 wheeler

outside a juke box rest stop

somewhere in Nevada,

chaotic airborne sagebrush

and thick toxic dust storms

clogging our lungs

our vision

can’t block our amazed

uplooking wounded faces

from gaping beseechingly

everywhere for him

and how he makes

EVERYTHING sacred.

"IS, BEFORE BECOMING" or "WHILE WAITING FOR THE BIG BANG"

"BLOOD WEDDING"

"IS BECOMING, STILL"

"IS... BECOMING"

"THE DANCE"

"SCINTILLATION"

"TRAVEL FURTHER"

"HOME" (THE BEAUTY OF DAYS GONE BY) -- original painting 48"x60" acrylic and oil on canvas

Listen to 'THE BEAUTY OF DAYS GONE BY'--VAN MORRISON  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkVuk9goA5c

"PENETRATION" original painting 48"x60" acrylic on canvas

"SNOWDEN 2"

"SNOWDEN 1" (SNOWED-IN?)

"FLAMENCO"

"THE VISITOR"

"PAINT SPLOTCHES"

paint splotches

color the

carpet

 

these blue

and crimson

crumbs from 

a feast,

 

music touches

early silence

with song

 

surprising

and lifting

the heart,

 

coffee switches

the mind on,

 

gives the new

day a good start,

 

each day we

awaken to

tables laden

 

with platters

of heaped-

high untold

choices,

 

let's feast fully

with guts

and true

gusto

 

sing together

loud rowdy

and bold

 

'til the coffee

pot is drained

quite empty

 

and our wild

laughter

explodes!

"home from school"

    

 

The faintest scent

of snickerdoodles,

  

(just their name

brings a quick grin)

 

these hot cinnamon tinged

circular confections

just baked by mom

today sings,

 

NO -- SHOUTS,

my hungry

name as I

burst through

 

 

the back screen

door into

 

the kitchen's 

seductive 

magic,

 

plop down

the fat pile

of books

 

and a tin

Roy Rogers

lunchbox

 

as a small boy's 

strong thirst for love

 

is by several

sweet treats

 

and a cold

glass of milk

 

at least

partly

sated.

"LIVING ROOM"

"BALD HAT MAN--PORTLAND SATURDAY MARKET"

detail of "She Asked for Lemons, I Gave Her Stalactites"