Another day, another dollar

As you come nearer

I go farther

But either way

I won't forget to say
that I love you everyday

You are everywhere I am

and I am everywhere you are

Fly now

   they urgently

        wait quietly

For you to come and sing

As the hummingbird

  beateth its wings

My darling sails

  from sea to sea

A lullaby

  made patiently

               

Dear tawny moth I'm trying to save

lift yourself to my palm

Come now, be brave

I'd rather not touch your wings

as their color comes off on me

I'll catch you then
I'll set you free

So you can die peacefully

in a world of midnight blue and green

not in the harsh light
of my room here at my feet

summer salvage

You who so quickly
sound the bells
of ever-forever-after

Lay waste the open archway
through which may stroll another.

Too quickly passes
the summer breeze
of freedom's bliss blown dry.

You scoop me up to save me
while others stand idly by.

Perhaps they knew I was just swimming,
holding my breath to take in the scenes
of rainbow fishes dancing

between the rocky seams.
Still maybe it's not drowning
that inspired your brave attempt.

Could it be
perhaps truly
what you see is what you get?

New works. These are 3-dimensional raku images. Slabs are sculpted from underneath and then carved, this maintains an equal thickness across the whole piece, helping to reduce thermal stress and cracking. These pieces are very personal. The product of turmoil and heartache, these pieces were a refuge for my frailty and vulnerability, when a challenger sought to destroy them. My metamorphosis in clay has brought me closer to my femininity and to the earth.

Who is this cloudy shell? Quick as the setting sun to change her color, I sometimes have no idea what to do or say to tame her into her frame. All these little missteps leave me feeling as inadequate as an unrequited lover. I watch my peers venture off and away on what used to be my dreams, loved ones moving on and around and becoming what they said they'd be. I've said I'd be a lot of things, but none of them have fully come about.

My interests remain varied, each deep into their own resonance, forgetting the vibrations of the others. I have staved off the big break by excusing and procrastinating. What a curse to be so good in a debate I believe in, because as soon as I'm tired of believing in what must be done, a nozzle is switched on and I can justify absolutely anything. I just want to be a little more unseen. I wish no one know my plans, and I could just show up in a few years with or without new pedigrees. Just me, more learned and aware, a few more scars, a few less friends, but content with the journey that is my own.

I guess to be more unseen is a choice. But it is not really what matters here. If it's the opinions of others that intimidates me, then there are two courses of action at hand. One, let them see less of what's planned, let them see more of what's produced. And besides a course of action, really I should just let this made up criticism dissolve.

Now right now, in the quiet dark living room, the air is spiced with lingering aromas of dinner. My glass is now empty and my teeth are purple from a rich Chianti, and I saw my brother today. A dreamer is sleeping in her room, and she keeps me on my toes and saves the skin left on my teeth after my zany antics have left me emaciated and alone. Outside the tropical elegance of southern summer keep my feet bare and my frame hung with loose linens. Is it okay to just want to live for a while, to want to feel what it is to live for the day, the way I'm inclined to? for now, I'll just stay in it. The past cannot be changed and the future is on its way quickly, so now is really all I've got. The opinions of others will not be swirling my dreams once my head hits the pillow. They will not feel the heat as I bloody knuckles to the bone on alternative life pursuits, but I am here, I can feel the sacrifice, and the impending abundance. Head held high, I will keep my eye on the prize. Beacons of light from my head beam signals, spawning cycles of circumstance to swirl back to me my requests. If we can believe in it long enough and work for it diligently, it will come. Now, to begin.

Hallowed be this day

Watching them work methodically, I feel a sense of detachment between their tasks and the intention behind them. My hands have never looked so alive. Deep gold from hours of work in the sun, veins hugging my skeleton like determined vines, my precise little tools have quite the developing repertoire. My medium has been gracious enough to tolerate my experiments, frustrations, and questions. She has taken me in and molded my form.

The possibilities are mounting and I find my dreams flowering in wild new directions. I strive for focus tempered by sweetness, and the blood, sweat, and tears become less a thing to struggle through and more a gift to be savored. I want a hiatus of sorts. I can no longer tolerate the destructive, cyclical patterns of thought force fed from birth in these parts. I can no longer tolerate blindness, deceit, or apathy. Mine eyes have seen the nothing and the everything, I have left my Iago trance, and I cannot go back.

How best to strive for greatness now? Part of me is inclined to give up everything as a testament to my ever new awareness. But as my prized possessions and collections cry to me from moldy walls, it seems they are only in need of a new space. Maybe a change in scenery would better serve my ambitions than potpourri daydreams.

My loved ones have been a total treasure to me through this entire process. They have showered me with patience and encouragement. Each of them have played vital roles in critical moments, and I am very grateful for their continued faith in me.

I would like to sanctify this day as hallowed day of possibility, paradox, and potential. My dearest friend, confidant, starpartner Erin, has let me move in. She is a passionate, awe-inspiring painter and a worthy fellow adventurer. I have a new job downtown, and a new plan for my first real raku line. I hope to move soon, I've gotten rid of 95% if the things that I own. I'm now mobile and flight-ready. All I ask of my new home is that it offer a plethora of natural adventures, and a quiet place for study, experimentation, and meditation. I don't think the answer is in others for me right now, but if there must be others, I hope they are serene and loving. I hope to delve completely into my medium, so that I can be honest in my pursuits.

Someone recently entered my life by coincidence, meeting me at the soul with a gentle hello. Since that moment, somehow he has stayed in my thoughts, in my dreams. It's all beautifully peculiar to me. I'm buzzed with thoughts of star-crossed lovers and the body electric. We are separated by a great distance, iron, and rock, but his vibrations still echo in the hollow of my chest.

Staring at my toes at the end of the tub and they start to look like mountains, reflected at their roots into the barely steady water like the black taj.

I found myself standing in a windowless hall of dark closed doors. As though a wind took with the light and the air to close everthing I could peer into. But then vines cracked the mortar in the floor and extended nimble fingers to reclame the darkened space. I find now the whole labrynth of doors I've been constructing and bloodying my knuckles over is falling to rubble. And through the looking glass I find things to be more translucent.


I recently had my first show. Some saintly folk in Virginia had a marvelous brainchild to inject a real bon temps roulee feel into the Bayou Boogaloo Cajun Arts Festival. They graciously shipped work, provided room, board, and boothspace, and hauled the hallowed bodies of 30 or so New Orleans artists. We all piled on a bus at 9:30 at night in NOLA and set off on our thousand mile journey.


The next morning the big black bus, "I heart NOLA" in gold brandishing from its side, pulled into Hardees. The driver made a bee line for the door and then there was a pause. Moments later a fountain of flowing fabrics, professional cameras, and earthy postures came flowing from the door. The ecclectic crowd dispersed to the edges of the parking lot to examine flowers, take portraits of the clouds, and stir up a little tai chi line dance. The island of misfit toys seemed tumped over into the parking lot.





After being a craft fair waif my entire life, I have found new drive through this validating, inspiring event. Suddenly people who I have observed and admired for years are nestling me warmly under their wings, welcoming me as a peer. The path before me has opened up like the morning horizon. Soon my best friend and career/adventure partner and I will hit the road to find a new home and space to totally immerse ourselves into nature, new culture, and our mediums. It is hard to break away from all my current comforts, and all of my fears and insecurities are blazing in my face. However, the time has come. The nest has gotten too warm.

Thin layers of water cloud my vision as I glance around the room. Feeling my unsteadiness, the space around me waits in apprehension to see my next move. Will I fall now to the floor and kick and scream? Will I denounce the power that has held me for so long? Nope, I'll burn them back down. Like the second shot of liquor, a little sweeter from the action this time. Apparently these days are the learn to live to fight for another days, because every time I think I've learned something, life is there with another bucket of cold water for me. This time to make sure I choke on the pride I was busy swallowing.

There are so many answers, if I only could come to the questions. So many answers, but so many lies, all grinning from every direction. If only I could take these lines and spread em around like a map on the dash. See whats really in between, waiting like a theif. There's an I before an E except after see I told you so. Don't matter, not at all, because what they don't know. Is what they can't see, cause the lights are off, but I can see in the dark and I can see what you won't. What he left out, what she spelled out, and what's spiraling out of control. You wanna blame it on the next best polarity despite the parody on deck to unfold. So don't come to me with some hypocrisy, best foot forward, man who broke the mold. I just want someone to know me. But here I am. Skint one more time, but my arms still feel strong, and I've got streams of words pulling me along. And that makes this a perfect time to say: Thank you to the ones I love for never giving up, and never giving up on me.