Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

sculpture- history laid in a heap
of all those nights
made to feel cheap

the shapes= dynasties, prayers
incense and gardens of light
traveling down that trail
deep into the center
where the light is giving you
a chance

to see a new perspective
letting art trap my hands
duck tape and paint
the hardware store
then on a plane to chile
however did this happen?
could love really have made this life so golden?
i think so
late
distracted
cant really hear them
fish nets and doc martens
in the rain
in portland 2015
post bac for an MFA she lay
in a heap
of papers

tubes of paint
no more bread her body said
green slime and juice
that chasity belt she sculpted and then had a model wear for the final
the hungarian gypsy girl
she belly dances as well

love the way you lay it all out....making me feel like a voyeur....there is art everywhere in your life....in your words, on your canvas, in the breaking down of the bacteria into the compost that feeds new life.....art....even from pain, even from questionable choices...art
is you and you are art....and you are alive in new ways you never expected.....

I was 58 years old last evening
My friends lunched me- dinner end me- and I could eat my way accross Portland- but the bread_ yeah that's over-
I now go on Monday
To buy a bike
The kind you pedal
Longer distance than wal mart
Bikes will get you
Anyway
T
Helmet
Lock
And some lights
I'm trying to live longer
? Sort of- I'm trying to keep it real
No more gasoline consumption

Why not?
Senility is suggestive

Why not?
Senility is suggestive

{ smiles here }

Happy Late Birthday, Jana

Laughing... Thank you
I think this is such a good thing
Enuf said

Dumb struck , only one truly suffering from the affliction of being an artist and a poet can appreciate this poem me thinks.The mind journey is swift and a deceptive white water ride , so calm it seems in places .When I get connected to a poem ,as to say just love it .often I can not say just why
Oh thank God who would want to know the why of god. much enjoyed>

Thank you- they are like weeds the poetry
Come up everywhere