All are small acrylic paintings on scrap board. Sketches, so to speak.
Archive for July, 2007
“We let our eyes, our ears, our sense of touch illuminate ten seconds here, a minute there. And then it’s gone”–Birdie Jaworski
I cradled you today in space and time
where sunlight rides the surface of a lake,
beneath titanic nimbuses that take
the bluff, the mirrored monuments that climb
across the summer vineyards to the water.
There, I held your body in a light
that moved in waves across your skin like white
reflective fire. I cradled you, my daughter.
And tonight, before I finally fell asleep,
I dreamed I had a brilliant conversation
with a laughing echo on the waves
that knows your smile and sings a recitation
to the wind, a cryptic Gita deep
yet fleeting in the way that light behaves.
The neighbor’s child has built a muddy shrine
to Satan in our yard. And I’m supposed
to cut the lawn? OK, but look at those
croquet clubs that she used (good God, they’re mine!)
to pound her pentagrams of chicken bone
into the ground. The handles are unscrewed
from all the hammer heads. It’s kind of shrewd
the way she placed that Playskool™ telephone.
Still, little girls should not touch garden tools
or take the plastic rake out of the shed–-
she’s tied it with those jump ropes to the tree.
A shattered flower pot. The Barbie head.
Horrific how this child has learned the rules
of Belial for sculpting in debris.