Response to Liminal Space's "Uproot Yuhself"

To be continued...

Storms Brewing

My artwork is taking a turn. Between the shadows of legends before, to the current victories made by younger and upcoming artists, I am living in a reflection of constant NOW. There's a feeling of "so close" and yet it constantly stays just out of reach.

Recently I've revisited one of my favorite poets, Patti Smith. It wasn't a lack of naivete or strength of overwhelming knowledge, but yet a comfort of knowing the unknown to try and know. To know What? To know, that's all you or I ever needed to know. The ability to form words, words into songs, or plainly written in ink on dried tree pulp to move thousands of people in all walks of life...this was the conscious living of Patti. This all links together, just hang in there.

Then there's this new artist, new to me, I read about today on AOL's website named Zena Holloway. Here's a woman who started traveling the seas at 18 as a diving instructor and through the years has honed in on her photography skills to create immaculate underwater images. Something yet to strive for. Immersion into a constant changing and altering mass such as water is a breath-taking endeavor when you look into her images.

Before I venture too much further into my mind and leave you by the blogger roadside I want to wrap this up. Between the known of Patti and the unknown of the sea there's an understanding and explanation waiting to happen.

I am feeling the wait disperse from my skin and accepting the cool & fresh feeling of NEW art flow out of me. Definition in new forms, art in new directions. Past to present, as we all know links us, one by one, is ever-present in today's knowledge of what WILL be.

I probably should...

But mama said I shouldn't. Here are old journal entries from years past. I've been wanting to self publish these for years. There was an idea behind the publish, but for now I'll just chalk it up to sharing. I realize that family may be seeing some of this art for the first time and I want them to know I'm only as sound in mind as they want me to be in their own. I've been writing in journals/diaries/logs since the early age of 6 years old. I recently found evidence of my writing as a child and maybe one day we'll all benefit from the humor of misspellings and frivolous thoughts on love or mean teachers. Until then, here are some more recent past explosions of thought.

Descriptions Of a Moment

Twigs are twined

Bubbles are beaten

Desired dress dishabille

Grapes wound

Tongues eaten

Thoughts are fish-able

Tangled peck

Redwood word

Settled on another saddle

Songs sung a wreck

Among leave's bird

Moments thoughts and cradle

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All the voices, east of Omaha, the chance to live your life without the gravity of.

Witness to winds and a hummingbird on a branch, finally still. Fluttering for hours, but chose me to sit calmly in front of. Thirty five-mile an hour winds and there it sits calm as a librarian in the sanctuary of her own thoughts. How nature lends us the moments to observe, reflect, and project. A calm before the storm you might say, but the lesson was simplified. On the wind or in the wind. Forever captured in color.

Just as the hummingbird stopped the labyrinth walls climb. Not moving in time, but revealing with all its' might its' power and grace. To dare and climb inside and take a closer look...what I found was unbelievable. Some say it is like a staircase, other's imagine an organized pattern within its' tangled weave. The skin of the branches define as they climb to reach something they can only feed from. To receive life, but to never touch the thing that gives it to you. Still, in a moment, a reoccurring theme, and a limitless thought.

Function, Feeling, Focus, and Found.

Short Story

* 2008 was a rough year for this soul and I wrote a series of memoirs for a time to get through it all. Some strange little short stories creeped out of me and the one I've chosen to share is among a small list of personal favorites. Enjoy.**



SHORT STORY


Sanctioned, Clarified, Certain, I think not.

I found a velvet penis under a shard of glass. Purple and haunted I picked it up and
threw it across an alley to see if it would disintegrate, but it bounced and started to crawl. In my brown paper bag I took out a bottle of Jack and poured it on the worm like thing, but it was already drunk and drank my Jack. I put it in the brown bag and took it home as my pet.

April 6th, 2010

I've come to a point where I'm "back". Whether that is back on top, back with my thoughts, or back home in my skin, either way I'm back. Through journeys that I'll show glimpses of in the future to the current place and time I've finally come to this mirror where I plan on sharing it all with myself & others.

April 6th, 2010...a day to remember.


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A TALE OF ENOUGH


I stuck around long enough

Yeah I needed to see just how much

I stuck around plenty long enough

You’d had plenty

I’d simply had enough

Enough of Enough

I stuck around for just

When the day came and we severed

Enough was enough

I remember when I met her too

Around and around she pushed and abused

Everyone had enough

A maladjusted poet or gluten for punishment

I still hadn’t had enough

There were phone calls

There were name calls

Finally enough with her

Finally enough red hair

Lovers in and out of bed

Travels beyond my own head

There were tanks full of adventure

There were scars to prove my own indenture

Enough I said, Enough … I fled

Standing against a wall

Black cloak and all

Not to be bothered, Do not disturb

I’d had enough, but through me you saw

Pushing through a crowd

Pushing through my past

You’d had enough, enough of enough

There it was, the light

Cliché, misunderstood, predicted, and new

Motorcycle mayhem

One week and six months

Enough time to know

Enough love to confirm

Just one “big” question to affirm

She simply had enough

He aggravated had quite enough

Together they put enough to rest