an invitation

i have a gift for you, accept it if you will

a place of full protection, a haven’s sanctuary

i can help you to recover, to shield you temporary

please join me in this place, rest healing for your grace

i have a nest for you, of mortar, wood, and straw

a soft and sheltered bed, for your broken fractured shell

re-calcify yourself, build protections hard and strong

stock yolk for sustenance, whites for recovery in your womb

i will place myself around you, keep you safe and warm

provide you food and shelter, protect you from the harm

you recover you inside, learn within your womb

rebuild your trust and confidence from distrustful tomb

break forth when you are ready, a chrysalis made free

developed unbound by pain, spirits butterfly foresee

go forward in this world, pray tell me of your art

share with me your dreams, recover liberated heart 

Woman in Egg
Artist: Nistal Prem de Boer

Gum Thoughts

How did this even begin?  What person or persons unknown stuck their gum to this wall, from cheek and jowl, to wall appearance foul?  What person or persons unknown made a decision, whether from disgust or from purposeful guerilla tactic, to leave their gum in place to transform from a sticky mess to vibrant and gaudy art? 

From ground to as high as a mortal can reach with little assist, from edge of building to every opening to edge of building this wall is covered.  Piece by piece, methodically chewed, all flavor removed till all that remains is the rosin and colors and the memories of bubbles and shared chews and flavor smacked while cavorting with friends while waiting in line or joining for a smoke or watching the crowds.  And stuck in that rosin the lives and memories of thousands of boys and girls mingled to collective thought converting a simple blank brick canvas to a collective theatre of art. 

Hearts show the love of a boy for his girl: look I have stretched this simple piece of grape flavored gum and ventured to stick it to the wall over all this other gum in the shape of a heart, and I deigned to place our initials in stretched white gum: A H and G O.  I perform this act of art to show my love for you.

And flags, oh say can you see by this alleys yellow light, all the gumballs we chew, and stick them for you. Did you know?  Ninety percent of the world’s gumballs are manufactured in Canada.  With patriotic fervor the boys and girls chew a foreign object extracting the resources and show their appreciation by placing the debris of their hubris to this wall. 

Messages to friends.  Josh says Hi.  Kate says Hi back.  Pennies and nickels sandwiched between two sticky morsels to add fiduciary value to our monument.  The tide of this mess is rising so it covers signs, it camouflages the doors, and even is slowly encroaching the ticket window till one fears in future one will never gain access to the theatre beneath held together by cover of public health menace over.  This place, second only to the Blarney Stone as one of the germiest spots on earth.

The wall fascinates and repulses at once.  You want nothing but to stay back from the wall knowing where it all has been.  Yet you are drawn, fascinated as drivers are drawn to an accident.  The years of message, the history of these boys and girls, are woven into the rosin and latex and color and sweeteners.  Oh if I could only see the stories, hear the voices.  I cannot.  I can only imagine these children in joy on Post Alley.  And I smile happy.

we, are a very happy man!

their there

He woke suddenly without reason.  Something reasoned him to consciousness.  He took stock.  White walls waiting for artistry life, simple furniture.  Window opened, fresh air flowing freely in the dark.  Birds were singing, a jungle of music of every type and nature.  The bed disheveled, he had slept restlessly.  The red light of the bedside clock red 3:38.  It was unusually quiet.  The bedroom door was closed.  The bedroom door is never closed.  And he remembered, she was there.  Her creativity, her sensitivity focused at night, when the soul noise of humanity slumbers and her mind can gain space.  She would close the door so as to shut his presence, so as to find her solace.  He understands and he will not disturb.

He woke suddenly with reason, from a deep slumber.  It is quiet, the flow of air from his open window empty of night sounds, of wildlife, even of insects.  His bed empty and unslept next to him, his reminder.  He has no bedside clock, only devices with clocks built into them.  The bedroom door is open, it has never been closed.  The time is indeed 3:38.  Her presence is out there, his dream brought her near.  Exploring her essence he finds nothing distraught.  His comfort complete his sleep he repeats. 

One day, her presence will be present and real, whoever she be.

She be...

These Peas

Arranged, a pattern of geese in formation, together they remain amongst the sauces and meat and squash and pasta.  These we will not sacrifice to our sustenance.  These will remain sweet and green to compose naturally to provide for future generations of insects and plants and food and animal.  These peas, this sacrifice, these peas, for future. 

Lunar Drops

She turned from white to yellow to the deep blood red orange of Valencia fruit.  Passing through clouds she first flattened and then widened extracted downward through a small opening at the bottom of each cloud streak.  The eye naturally tries to trace her shape but an illusion makes the bottom narrower than her top causing one to think she is being squeezed through a tiny hole.  She finished her descent impaling herself upon St. Mary's cross hiding as she did behind a cloud streak perfectly aligned with the church top. 

June 11th MoonSet

I have a great friend who shares the moon with me.  This moon set was especially beautiful.