Spring Awakens

Spring awakens sun from slumberlight over bay
lifting the gauzy grey filter of light.
Now, drenched in full bright beams
forgotten are the blank listless days
that occupied the past season.

Mood rises with the sun
and still hangs high after dark
because the skin retains warmth
well into the cool clear night
removing remnantsĀ of a horrible winter.

Advertisements

Thunderhead

Wet round eyes precipitate the change
turns hardened surface porous,
open to all that may fall from above
as a blessing, a hope, glorious.

No grey to tinge new growth.
Just transformed to soil from shell
by the turbulance of slow-rolling storm.
A change longer lasting than thunderhead’s swell.

Swearing to cease

As my lips swear to cease
My hands immediately reach
Once more pulling close
What I wish to shove off.

So with what is unwanted,
So very much unwanted
and counter to all purpose promised
I forget the arguments rehearsed.

Again taking in the venom
that has become an addiction
too potent not to be a pleasure
I am comforted as I am destroyed.

More

abstract watercolor

Abstract water color

Whenever you look at an object, we observe the sum of its layers, its components. Though our eyes only register the surface, our minds understand that there is much more below. How far can we break down solid objects? What is the smallest increment we can perceive? Do you feel atoms?

I found this subject interesting to paint because there is a cosmos of activity under the surface of things that we can’t perceive. The above was inspired by images of pollen under an electron microscope. Its magnification revealed massive caverns and complex textures that I would not normally associate with the tiny spores that affect my allergies.

Sleepless

Eyes ringed with last night’s awake,
blink numbly in brilliant light.
No revelations came with day break.
So, greet the morn with no delight.

Turn and turn it over again
’till can’t tell right side up from down.
How many days must I spend
wondering for what am I bound?

Head ached from thoughts tossed
by idle threats and bluster.
Grown weary of the logic lost
amid the maze of much clutter.

Spin and spin ’round some more
’till everything is a blur.
What makes steady steps sure
when head and feet can’t concure?

 

2/1/11