Standing five blocks away, I could smell the hot fudge. I could taste the mint patty. One hundred degrees of muggy heat, and all signs pointed to a satisfying solution, served up with smiles all around. Yes, a regular, please.
Chimney Sweep (Common Sense) The chimney came down with more dust and noise than when it went up, I imagine, but both happened one brick at a time. Its negative space, the not-chimney void, spanned three stories. Common sense would suggest that I stay back well away from the edge …
Thunder grumbles interrupted the happy, rose-scented, graduation party burble. Wind lifted the table cloths, lifted the plates, lifted the canopies, lifted the guests out of the pool, out of their chairs and into the safety of the house. Water fell in cold marbles that bounced on empty chairs and piled …
Dragonfly (Estimation) This salt-and-pepper dragonfly (I think she’s a common whitetail) chose my salt-and-pepper granite stair for home. Would the blue ringtail dragonfly hang out more, if I painted the granite with black and blue stripes?
Home-9 (all) When you enter an empty room do you register what you see? Rarely, I think, unless its emptiness shocks you. The room is, well, empty, therefore it is unlikely to contain anything or anyone you seek. Why would you bother to study it? A photograph of an empty …
Love isn’t pretty. It startles you in the nightgrabs you by the throatempties your soulleaves youprayingin the dark silencea primordial light washes the floor,raises your edges: the weave of the bedspread,your hand, and its pop-top scar, tiny white hairs, two sun spots, creases, veins,one broken half-polished nail, the pencil callous on your middle finger, every lie you’ve …
Too Safe (Common Sense) I spotted this wind chime in a local craft store. The beads captivated me with their liquid color. The cup running over amused. The crumpled-tine fork clapper surprised. The music charmed－clear, gentle, exquisite. I made it mine. I hung it in a safe place near the house, …
Vanilla Grill (Common Sense) Vanilla-scented astilbe crowds the rusted grill. Its doors still glide open with a smart “snick”. Spiders and leaves fill the void around the cold propane tank. I raise the silent lid, turn the knob, click-click-click, and a blue flame whooshes just short of my face, settles …
Shaker Style (Memory) Shaker boxes, the real deal, collected by Pat’s mother Wild colors faded Musty smells of herbs long gone Captivating construction Bent painted wood Copper nails Nested neatly Promise a place for everything A place that lasts past the maker’s life past the maker’s faith Past. They taught …
Musical Chairs (Fantasy) I first saw the birds on silken ground, flying over gilded hills in a Tokyo elevator. Even crushing myself against the wall, sucking in my breath, I could not capture them all on film.(It was film then.)I resorted to melding photography with sketching and painting and digitizing …