I've been spending alot of time painting again. Here are a couple of the works in progress.

Calcite in Yellowstone

Looking through my old pictures, I found this of calcite formations in Yellowstone. I edited the contrast a bit, and thought it looked good. Yellowstone is a beautiful place, and I hope to see more of the national parks one day. So much there is shocking to the senses in comparison to the relatively flat land along the Mississippi where I live.

Life has only afforded me a few chances to travel and experience this country, but what I have seen is beautiful. I have deep emotional memories and some good pictures too. Thankful.

16x20 Original Art

I'm happy with this one. It started out very drab and plain, and over time evolved into this. I hope you enjoy it. Acrylic on canvas. Inquiries are welcome.

Painting Again

 

I could spend all my time,

out here

on the cracked earth,

knowing stars still sit

outside but can't see me.

Slats with cracks -

displaying parts of the night sky.

I could sip and lean just so,

in my little shelter,

full of light,

smooth colors flowing in front of me.

11-4-16

Learning and Relearning

Years ago I started this blog and called it "Drift No More." I was feeling bold and confident. It seems that I had some more drifting to do. Lately, I have begun to think that maybe drifting isn't so bad, if I can Drift With Purpose. I am still changing, and choosing how I change has become important.

A night of restless wandering...

the road was unwalked, and i decided to walk it. i passed plastic buildings and neon nothings, and then the air shifted. into another world, feet already tired, something crept up my spine, and i ceased to be comfortable. i could feel the decay around me. the breeze itself seemed tired of this place. houses with no windows, spray painted in words undeserving of attention. i wanted to take a picture of one such house. i did not. was unsure what the camera flash might awaken from behind the scabs that served as walls there. but there was no healing in these buildings; no restoration; no redemption. only decay and rot. under a piece of corrugated box lay something that was probably a person once, alone, hidden from the horrors i walked through. hidden from the place that had become its home. i shuffled on again, hoping not to have been noticed. being noticed in that place, with my camera and my CK jacket, was my biggest fear. there, men often became animals, the types of people that inspired vampire and werewolf lore. didn't want to hang around, so i walked. as the train roared overhead, i stopped, at first admiring the train. wishing i could walk that fast straight out of this place. but what froze my feet still was the void beneath. the blackness between the columns. the voices of countless men who had slept there, under the trains, and the fear that i was being watched. i kept walking.

Stasis

In stasis...
to say stable would be a stretch.
Tires spinning, unmoving.
if I were angry
would I be a wretch?
I've called myself alot of things;
a phoenix in a bottle,
a bird with no wings.
The flavours of my language elude me,
and their metaphors pursue me
like chick under hawk.
I've seen Braveheart,
and I've heard the Bard.
I've watched Napoleon fall
from the comfort of my couch.
To dodge the light fantastic, I'd say...
I've felt God on a cross;
in a ditch, at a loss
for a description of His petri dish,
He who made us...
Who gave us the right to get Him wrong,
I think He listens to every song.
and yes, I think He cries for me,
as I swing my fists, wishing I could see.