Ozzy is my dear friend. He came along when I needed companionship and distraction, when my job was eliminated in 2009.
He is a pain in the ass.
Early in the morning, flowers dance in the alleys and know the sun is coming. It is toward their end this year. They know it, I know it and my dog knows its.
As usual, we are walking with somewhat different priorities. However, Ozzy (Australian Cattle Dog) knows that I like to sketch as much as he well… whatever he does and thinks. One thing is certain, the scents are attractive to both of us.
This is my second painting in my birthday book of handmade paper. It certainly slows me down, but it yields great fortunes and merry discovery. Each shadow I see reveals its own dimension. Do you see the pages and how they reveal themselves at the bottom?
We climb to the stars baby –
the stars’ ladder.
We are those stars of charts
and meanderings through
the crystal skies,
the jet-plane paths and
How far I climb is up to me,
but all I see in front are
paths and forks,
with shiny points –
Behind is my death of things
that memory won’t serve,
that flamed out until
sterling snaps and rustles –
left to burn.
Dearest, the imaginarium calls wild.
Do you hear?
It is sharp and planed,
existence defined by us –
the skaters who climb our
stars and our ladders, reaching
longitudes, more or less
defined by us.
We draw our breaths
and heave our chests.
Do we breathe?
Do we blow?
We snap our fingers
like little flickers.
Beat of our dreams, sweet thoughts –
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