Sunday, March 30, 2014

My Soul Seeks Its Bloom

I am singing Suite Judy Blue Eyes.

My mother comes to me in dreams wearing purple, wearing blue, smiling, arms open.

I miss him and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Except drive to the swamps and scan the fields, the still frozen waterways for the ghost trails of snowy owls.

There is the dualistic sensation of everything falling apart, of dire circumstances looming, and the breaking dawn of positive at-long-last change. Of things, of life finally congealing to rise.

There is an urge to maximize my resources: money, physical energy, time. I think of each of them carefully. How to use what I have to my fullest benefit, to sculpt a fulfilling life. A life I finally agree to live.

I am working quietly behind the scenes in support of the rise, my rise. I am stepping over the wide chasm in the sand carved by my mother's death. Money, energy and time are focused on the old and new urges of my soul: a business, flowers, nature, horses, people I love.

Words have failed me regularly for the past year and a half. I hope a new well will be dug. I miss the soothing flow. While waiting, in support of my rise, my urges, I am writing pictorial poems. You can now find me here~

Life is moving on.
My soul seeks its bloom.
Please join me.

Monday, February 17, 2014

soul and winter shoes

winter shoes

what peace looks like

standing where deer lay

buck and doe bedroom, wind break hill

monochromatic rise, fresh prints

winter shoes, reclining

fresh prints, she-beds to confuse the deer

Wednesday, January 08, 2014


Woody's Beerman with snow

there was a saucepan of cheater's chili simmering on the stove and i ate it right from the pan, standing in front of the burner. we're having a winterlude, called by some, "the blizzard of twenty fourteen" and i've got things to do. like, getting on with the business of turning back towards life after a long, long pause in which that turn was, at times, doubtful. but the timeline on stasis seemingly ran out and moment by moment a word returned to me. that word, joy, was a choice and a mantra from a few years back and let me tell you it failed miserably as a word i lived by for whatever year that was. and so, it presents itself again and this time, i am buying it. because it has already injected itself into my year, even my end of last year.

i had entirely forgotten what joy felt like.

it is not big, it is little.

it came full on in a holiday with no presents, only food and lights and family. then it tackled me at the horse barn with not one, but a two horse triumph in grooming and care. a triple joy day came in the form of dearest friends, new flowered barn boots and a surprise beerman made of snow. and now, the winterlude with its string of days off and the busyness of rest and reading and digging out a dusty box of collage paraphernalia for a project that will not wait another second and hence, the cheater's chili from stove top while gluing said paraphernalia onto a garbage-picked thing at the kitchen table.

i have gained weight and i am lighter. wrinkles creep in and i am younger. the soles of my feet hurt and i am dancing for joy.