a converstation with myself
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October 2, 2011
wake me up
shake the dust from my eyes
wake me up
you can even tell me all your lies
'cause I believe
most anything I'm told
when I was young
they told me you're already old
and I have seen
more than my eyes can hold
and I am always apologizing
for being much too bold
so hold me down
hold me low down to the ground
don't let me go
even though I'll tell you I won't run away
when I leave
paint my shadow on the floor
when I return, just tell me
you don't live here anymore
I'll say I've changed
I'll say I am not the same
but I can't be trusted,
there's always someone else to blame
and you'll say never
and I'll say all ways
I'll say never
and you'll say all ways
And we'll lose our footing once again
and we'll fall down
And maybe this time,
we'll just stay there
maybe this time we won't be let down
and maybe this time,
we'll just stay here
maybe this time we'll keep our feet upon the ground
words flowing in
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August 24, 2011
was reminded to revisit a piece of myself I'd left lying out in the cold
so as the air turns back in on itself, twisting the iron bars of summer
here I will write
more than before
filling in the gaps with alphabet blocks stacked high
swaying
ever so in the breeze
and if you want to string it all together
find some story hanging there
you're welcome to,
although it's forever being rewritten.
July 29, 2011
little treasures found in the back pockets of unwashed jeans-whispered in the places in between. remembering how it used to be because it feels like that again. letting go of plans & ideas of how things should be because they already are the way they are.
July 14, 2011
"family killed by ninjas...need money for karate lessons"
sign seen.
July 11, 2011
an air-conditioned monday. serpico. pizza from the oven...& tomorrow...a day off. will it storm as it is forecast to do? how many syllables in a haiku? more art than I have supplies for...
July 6, 2011
Oh me Oh my-bought an inner tube & a fishing pole & spent the day in Pewaukee at the lake.
Didn't catch a thing.
Found a little birdie dead in our path & decided to draw it back to life.
July 5, 2011
shaky hands, uneasy street.
Unease.
a state of unease. a roaming mob. a roaming senseless violent mob. It defies all logic & explanation. No use trying to reason with the unreasonable. Shouldn't let them shake you (like a leaf).
Quaking. Shaking. Leave the light on.
July 4, 2011
fireworks in the sky & a waxing moon overlooking cemetary hill.
Twelve years ago today I lost a cousin.
Twelve years & a day ago I lost a grandfather-it's nice that with each passing year there are fireworks in their honor-a celebration of their lives.
July 1, 2011
Call of the storm...the wind is kicking up it's feet-sweeping through the street-wind chimes dancing to the beat. will it rain or simply pour? Is this not a riddle? Will they sleep with clenched fists-shuddering through the night-or when the dust settles will the wind lull them into dreamless sleep-unaware of what they've done-the harm they've caused that even the wind can't sweep away. Will they ever curl up-arms wound tight around their own heads-shoes coming at them in slow-motion-close-up-lightning-flash-daze speed...bruises forming in thier sleep. Or have they been there-once, twice, & then again-is that how they learned how? Were their shoes selected long ago?
June 18, 2011
Neil Young on a Saturday morning tuning into his phrases sung looking for hidden or blatant meaning "You're leaving here too soon" Everything has meaning. Drawing without lines.
May 15, 2011
we see only what we look at.
To look is an act of choice...Soon after we can see, we are aware that we can be seen. The eye of the other combines with our own eye to make it fully credible that we are part of the visible world."
-Walter Benjamin, 1970
May 15, 2011
sweeping uneasiness under the rug.
rainy days of grey...new books to read & pictures to draw.
a new week beginning-the hour crawls slowly to ten on a sunday night-a sleepy haze creeping in-eyes heavy with the day.
May 7, 2011
I would like to draw a house.
all straight lines & architecture.
I would like to cut off my hair
& then grow it out long-
past my shoulders.
in that order-within a week's time.
why does it feel like I've fallen down whenever I come home?
If that's what you call this...here...this silent space between single-syllable-pauses.
my brother says home is where his stuff is. It has nothing to do with people.
My mom used to tell me my home should always be where she is-she is so familiar but too far away, in another world, long long ago.
I used to think home would be a person-but home can not be a stranger.
For now, the closest thing to home is a city where I don't have an address-
but one where I've had several.
How I long to go home again in every sense of the word I've ever come to know.
May 5, 2011
my heart is full here in this city where I first found myself ten years ago. It's like stepping back into an old familiar skin...not back in time, like "going back home" is being sucked into a black hole in the space-time continuum where you just feel stuck & completely lacking in all experiences you've had since then. No, being back in Chicago is a returning, an "oh yeah...this is what it's like...I remember"-that pair of shoes or jeans or old jacket that's been worn in just right & you'll never throw it away, you'll wear it til it's thread bare and falls off on it's own. Can I put this feeling in my pocket? Bottle it up & store it in my heart somewhere so I feel it always? So whereever I am becomes this home. Hold onto this smile & carry it home with me, pull it out & wear it once in a while.
April 23, 2011
"close your eyes, hold your breath, stay in one place all your life-you're still moving & the world is moving under you-there's no waiting"
-Robert Duvall, Get Low
Art available at The Hummingbird Boutique
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April 21, 2011
Yesterday I took some of my hand-made jewelry & cards to The Hummingbird Boutique in Shorewood, Leslie, the shop owner is kind enough to let me display more than a dozen pieces of jewelry and 20 or so hand-made cards in her store! You've got to stop in and check out all the amazing things they have on display, all items are locally made & many are made from recycled/refurbished wares.
The store is located at 4415 N Oakland in Shorewood, Wisconsin
Check out their website to see more!!!
http://hummingbirdartboutique.com/

April 6, 2011
parked my car down where the birds sing...where the sound of traffic becomes a muffled memory...where you can almost reach an understanding of quiet.
I wait for answers that don't come-instead my mind is just flooded with more questions. What ifs & not enoughs.
The sun needs to shine. I don't know how to be any smaller & still be heard.
I don't know a lot of things.
I don't know more than I do.
I know I have a love. A great love. A love I believe can conquer all.
I need a reprieve. A path to travel on. Something to feed my sould-to make me whole.
Graffiti on a bridge says "Have a wonderful day" Thanks, bridge.
Why birds?
Because they can fly away.
What can I do that will allow me to travel? To create.
It's time to find it & do it. To live more fully in a more satisfied way.
March 14, 2011
one more hour of daylight.
waking up in the dark.
snow melting & falling away.
waiting for the phone to ring.
money in the bank.
I'm in need of a thinner jacket.
shoes with no socks.
need gas in the tank.
miles on the road.
soles of shoes worn thin.
eating in.
an evening on the couch.
city skyline.
messing up the couch...
and my hair...
and yours.
tired eyes.
February 4, 2011
overheard:
"Homesick 'cause I no longer know where home is."
January 25, 2011
waiting on a locksmith
sore throat kicking away
broken keys & throbbing shoulders
I'm halfway between
here & there.
waiting on a train
a plane, an automobile
a good night's sleep
& a rested dream.
January 21, 2011
new job
new landscape
flying too close to the sun
paintings packed in car
ten pounds lighter
(at least)
January 13, 2011
first song of the day:
Blondie's "Rapture"
shoulders hang under
some whispered weight
(some chance of fate)
brush it off like snow
(let it go, let it go, let it go)
I don't feel buried
just left lying in the green, green grass.
January 8, 2011
the cold wind is blowin' in
the cold, cold wind is blowin' in
How I long to be home
where it's safe and warm
the cold, cold wind is blowin' in.