Thursday, January 17, 2013


 Thursday. Blustery, icy mist.  4th day of rain.  I love this weather at dusk when the sky is white, tree branches are swaying, and the world is wet, stark & devoid of people on the streets.

Dearest Readers,
The story of the old woman who grabbed a star string continues with part 2, written in verse because I seem to think better in segments, though it reads like prose.
 The Interstice- Part 2 Jan.17.2013

She was frightened and elated
As the city spread out below her dangling legs.
Illuminated pools circled streetlamps
And defined the paths of silent cars
Like lines of wooly sheep with tunnel vision
Decked out in Christmas lights.

She continued to be pulled higher.
The strip of thatchy yard and her concrete stoop vanished.
The metal roof was fading.
Like spying a sparrow in a snarl of branches,
She kept her eye trained on its bright aluminum shape
For fear of losing hold of the world as she knew it.

It was cold now, but manageable if she breathed deeply, slowly,
And relaxed her eyes and mouth.
This maneuver stopped the shivering,
And allowed her the courage
To glance from side to side and below her feet.
Her city was gone.

She sensed at one point that she was cruising instead of rising.
Without the ground as marker it was hard to tell.
Stars and planets flickered around and below her swing.
Galaxies jammed the space above.
In a Disney movie the orchestral music of the spheres
Would cue up now, and she would glide on her sparkly star strings.
Fade to white.

An annoying tickle feathered against her eardrums
And broke her reverie.
It grew into a whispering pressure,
Then a chatter of muddled syllables.
Highs and lows, trills and harmonic swells of vowels and slurs
Formed a moving cloud of celestial language across 
The expanse of twinkling fullness.
Space was not empty.

The sky was awash in bobbing, babbling
String riders gliding in a weightless cosmic sound garden
Spitting letters that spelled their moods,
And clogged the heavens with three-dimensional feelings.
These had length, width, depth, spin, attraction,
And an internal drive that shot the letters like broken teeth out into space,
Clumping together in nimbus globs of granular grunts and resounding glee.
To be continued
45" x 40", acrylic on canvas
My heart in a nest painting that I showed you last week is finished I think. It is also a study in the contrast between the world above and the ground beneath our feet.
A Circle of Holes 9" x 12", pastel and oil stick on paper
This week I fashioned a circle of imaginary insect nest burrows based on this hole study drawing and then leaping from that starting point into the constricted mind of the underground life of bugs!

A Circle of Insect Nests-side view, 3"x3" each, cotton, shredded upholstery fabric, ink and acrylic
A Circle of Insect Nests-mounted on wall, 3"x3" each, cotton, shredded upholstery fabric, ink, acrylic

A Circle of Insect Nests-closeup of top of hole, 3"x3" each, cotton, shredded upholstery fabric, ink and acrylic

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