that lifted the baseball cap off my head, today, at the bluffs
overlooking the Puget Sound, as it did then, on the semi-arid
Mexican cerro?
Continue Reading »Posted in Identity, México, Pacific Northwest, Spirituality, Wind | 1 Comment »
A transparent droplet of nectar hangs
from the stigma of the bright yellow Pollyanna
lily, a solitary tear questioning “common knowledge”
about which of God’s creations feel pain, what it means
for plants that sense and respond to stress codes, communicate
through root systems and chemical signaling, to be cut down
before their prime, who it is they miss when they’re resplendently
dying in the clear vase on my kitchen table, what it means
when we both unfurl our velvet petals.
Posted in Communication, Flowers | 2 Comments »
I spent my days waiting for the whinny of the tethered
horse, the monarch butterfly’s black and yellow stripes
resting atop purple Jacaranda petals, the ephemeral
hummingbird in the almost bare late-season Hibiscus.
Continue Reading »Posted in Death/Loss/Grief, Guanajuato | Leave a Comment »
Your veined hands, more alive in ghostly Carrera marble, more human
towering three times the height of your Maker, curiosity beckons
those who flock to you, their Pilgrimage of Selfies, unbelievers
Continue Reading »Posted in Art, Daughters, Fathers, Florence, Michelangelo, Pilgrimage | 1 Comment »
– After Hua Xi, Everything lies in all directions
I dab dioxazine purple, one of the bluest shades of violet, on the blank canvas.
If I left it undiluted, unchanged by human hand, it would pass for deep black,
its own self, or a metaphor of color, potential, vibrance. I am one who adulterates,
alters pigmentation with cyan, cadmium, ivory; blends, feathers, shades with finger,
brush, breath, seeking a reflection of self, or the metaphor of self, life in all directions.
My paint swirls, builds, layers and arcs, approaches the edges. No canvas infinite,
each delimits what we create. I was the bluest shade, once a child, then my mother was.
Beyond this easel, life continues forward and back, blossom to bud to seed.
Can you see how the purple lupine, of our late summer hikes, has transformed
into the winged creature on the horizon, about to take flight?
Posted in Painting, Transformation | 1 Comment »