My dear friend

American Illustrator, Art, artist, Artist's Hands, Australian Blue Heeer, Australian Blue Heeler, Australian Cattle Dog, Australian Cattledog, Azoulay, Badass Artist, Barry Comer, Barry Comer Artist, Companionship, dog, Dogs, Dr. Ph. Martin's Radiant Concentrated Watercolor, Friendship, pets, Sculpture

Ozzy copy

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.

Dancing in the alley

Alley Flowers, American Illustrator, Art, art, artist, Australian Blue Heeler, Australian Cattledog, Badass Artist, Barry Comer, Barry Comer Artist, Dr. Ph. Martin's Radiant Concentrated Watercolor, drawing, dreams, Fall Colors, Gypsy Flowers, Handmade Paper, Illustration, Indian Handmade Paper

alleyflower

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?

For ozzy

Australian Blue Heeler, Australian Cattledog, dog, Love, Pet Dog

Ozzy copy

Sweet Dreams

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

blue oxygen.

How far I climb is up to me,

but all I see in front are

paths and forks,

with shiny points –

pinned 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 –

dearest hopes.