Sunday, June 9, 2019

fluid dynamics

Get into my slipstream, you said
And I did --

But only after riding out some
kind of heavy turbulence,
a major disruption
in the atmosphere

like a rocket ship taking off
or an asteroid coming too close,
feeling gravity,
burning up on re-entry
after circling above stratus in a high free orbit
for what felt like an eternity.

Following your penumbra,
pushing through the
boundaries between day and night
past, present
yours and mine

I learn, and learn again, my outside limit.

Sometimes, its all I can do
to hold still on earth

while you break the trail ahead.

Monday, May 27, 2019

hey tiger

if you've ever been caught

by an apex predator
you can recall
the pounding of your heart
hot blood rushing your face
all hormones warning:

your status no longer
guarantees safety.

(always the preferred
survival skill).

if you want me
you'll have to hold me--
hold me still
keep me quiet.

hey tiger:
for the record,
that's my throat
you've got there
in your mouth.

s'il vous plaƮt

out of the polar ice
you arrived
a response to my beacon
the promise of rescue,
of touch
the illusion of safety


a brief mirage
mission aborted

Sunday, March 31, 2019

new watercolor paintings

Three more from my recent road trip sketchbook.  California is a ceaseless wonder of geographic beauty.

Thursday, March 28, 2019

Carrizo Plain National Monument

More beauty from different angles...

Evolving skies

My first day at the Carrizo Plain was jaw-dropping.  I really mean it when I say that no medium can re-capture the beauty here with any justice.  Only the eye, the mind, and the gift of real presence can provide one with the experience of this place.

I was lucky enough to come on a cloudy day that provided dramatic skies and long shadows over the hills.  As the evening settled in, the clouds gathered and I found myself in a very pretty downpour that threw a rainbow over me as I cooked my dinner in the middle of a vast field of gold.  Never before has rain been a welcome addition to my camping milieu.

In the morning I was greeted by a full moon setting through the pink skies of dawn.  Low-hanging clouds drifted along the contours of the plain making it feel dream-like.  What a great place to drink the first cup of coffee for the day...

Bonnie and I hiked around in the higher hills on the second day, and I spent most of the morning and afternoon making paintings and walking around listening to the hum of bees, and the charming songs of the Western Meadowlark.

The second night I chose to camp high.  The valley was filling with weekend warriors from L.A. and Santa Barbara.  I was laughing:  even out here in the middle of nowhere, on rutted dirt roads, the over-achievers of the world in their large vehicles, drive too fast,  ride your ass, fly past the flowers, and all together leave the impression that there was somewhere else they needed to be.  Unbelievable.  It makes me sad for them.