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Dog Knows Wet Watercolors

Home w135 plus 4711-  L1017308

A wet watercolor brush paints long sad images soaking into my skin,

coloring me dark shades of wonder.  Face to knees, I ball sees nothing but blue shadows.

Final Cue Call

I stand naked on a stage of other actors.

Pointed jeers from single fingered hands…laughing emotions pushed forth to deeply penetrate my new skin.

Frozen in terror I act no more.

Curl over hiding private parts.

Eyes widely seeing twisted smile mouths.

Teeth sharply biting through self respect.

The dance of life has spun closed.

 

Sexual acts are film projections on blue skin, from blue movies, killing the final Dandelion sprout.

Seeds scatter white fluff into caves of dark hot wonder walls.

Other actors act their many lines.

My line, writ small, disappears below. . . .

 

Skip all the written stuff. Read only from the bottom of the page.

 

Tell me what line I need to read before the final cue call.

 

 

From the past to the future

The blockhouse views to the south

Hoover Dam 3601-  L1016518are readily

Understood as coming from the hearts

of workers. . .

construction

High, but not like today.

Walk out on swaying beams Of steel

To help drive the human cattle

toward…cripple bandits, or . . .

is this the view from the bunker that shoots down our civilization, because we need to be bigger than the river that feeds moisture to our soft bellies. Bigger than the gods that brought down Greece. Bigger than the Christ.

Arm wrestling with god is for Popeye.

Popeye!

 

 

Steppin’ Up To New Times

The sun is at my back…no matter.

Click Moves on the Tracking Walk
Click Moves on the Tracking Walk

Because the Connecticut tracks point west, winding alongside the dust stream with arrowheads and moccasins.

Follow the Shadow People.

Look down

at packed sand.

Look down

at wolf tracks. . .

Or maybe a Raven bird pretending to be the butcher in the valley.

bird in the Draw.

Sharpens her beak on the red whetstones.        Heart of Darkness                    Sharpens….

To slice a bit of ham for the wolf to follow.

And I wonder how it will all turn out if I just spin quickly into the sun

and catch them both laughing. . .

Laughing

and sharpening (their wit) for to inherit the Earth.

 

Your Home Away From Home

 

Home AloneA photographer’s kitchen.

Dark as the devil’s den.

Pulling away the light.

Away from the capture

M E D I U M.

A spiral staircase,

an electric escalator

of tiny electrons

moving toward

a sordid

I N T E R F A C E.

A soft brush of light

that…perhaps…bends

Your retina rods

like Kansas wheat

before

the

summer

storm that drives

home…

The Photographer,

for… perhaps

THAT day.