PAINTINGS & POETRY
(See Painting "Whitewater Woman," Portrait Gallery)
A wood wind wisp of a woman, she was
named “Whitewater” --
She was seated at the green drawing table
lino-printing note cards (with unicorns)
eyeing me with every stroke of brayered ink
She wants to draw eagles in-flight.
Said she was placed in a foster home,
in a place called Homer,
after throwing a desk at a teacher.
She ran from her home? -- In Homer?
Said the old creepy man “kept eyeballing her”
and she “wasn’t into that stuff.”
And she ran, ran back to Winnebago
the home of her birth --
and the death of her mother,
and the death via firewater
of her spirits soused father.
She ran 14 miles back to Winnebago.
She was 12 years old at the time.
Run with the spiritwind Whitewater Woman
and image eagles in flight.
Whistle in whoops with the owl
And soar in splendor on your own!
Who Will Care for Kari?
(See Painting "Kari," Portrait Gallery)
Punk rock hairdo cut high above her ears,
lifted straight up at the top
and fringed at the forehead,
The kids called it a “Buffalo”
‘till Kari discarded the bestial image,
curling and combing it back naturally.
She came to us this year from the city
-- a problem child,
Sporting a 40D dimension
in a size 36 sleeveless white knit sweater
and huge gilted metal knockers
hanging from her ears.
The change of demeanor has moved downward
with loose fitting white “Pooh Bear” sweatshirts
ringed with pink blouse collars
peeking through the top.
Formerly 15 going on 36,
says she’s painted her room blue
and talks incessantly of raising plants;
Her grandpa gave them to her!
She tenaciously draws cuttings of plants
seen through clear antique glass bottles,
filled with water and resourceful roots.
She looks for primal patterns
in the light and darker values.
Attacking with the force of a halfback,
She pursues an unfolding blossom
gracing a cut stem
attentive to the task.
But who will care for Kari?
(See Painting "Finding Root," Abstract Landscape Gallery)
May your roots reach
beneath the rock
and rough weather
of hard times.
May rhythmic rains
recycle earthen rivers
restoring your soul
and send forth springs
into the soil of summer
holding you steady.
May the wild winds of change
reseed your spirit
and beckoning breezes
offer the whimsy
of sailing clouds
and mark light and shadow patterns
crisscrossing your days
with infinite variety.
May the colors of autumn
fall brilliantly around you
as a mantle on your shoulders
and crown your visage
with desert sun.
And may the solitude of snow
give dimension and depth
to times of fallow --
further finding root
(See Painting "Girl with Bird," Portrait Gallery)
Time turns on Alpha bits,
Spiraling moments upon
Amassing months and years.
Forming ages and eons --
Merely to deconstruct
in death and decay,
The edifices of memory --
Cracking and crumbling
in an Omega chorus.
Eternities gates hinge
upon the seeds of life and time,
in endless renewal,
Recreating chronos Alpha bit by
(See "Dwelling Place," Art as Symbol Gallery)
The Old Russian Olive tree stands sentry
a few yards beyond my studio windows.
Its gray green branches reflect myriad shades of silver
as the wind shifts and breezes play with
The tree's very rootedness, as well as its
amid wind shifts and weather changes,
symbolizes my own needs,
reminding me daily of my own maturing age,
within the cycles of the natural world.
Its shapes and tones and range of values offer
of silence and light and wonder,
movement and form.
A savor for sight and sense, its sacred presence,
A Dwelling Place!