The body in the invisible
Familiar room accepts the gift
Of sleep, and for a while is still;
Instead of will, it lives by drift
In the great night that gathers up
The earth and sky. Slackened, unbent,
Unwanting, without fear or hope,
The body rests beyond intent.
Sleep is the prayer the body prays,
Breathing in unthought faith the Breath
That through our worry-wearied days
Preserves our rest, and is our truth.
From the 1990 selection of Sabbath poems.
Now that Fall has hit, I can sit outside without sweating, being stung and sunburn.
Yesterday, I sat and watched the comings and goings, couples drinking coffee and a little dog who snapped at the patrons.
Finally, a day for celebration. It was my pre-birthday and celebrated with my best friend with lunch and a cocktail.
Quiet underground. Dark underground. Party above.
Hash smash. Criss-cross, bang bang! I’m all about some rhythm.
An interpretation of shape with color is what your brain understands it to be. Is it?
Is it a cutout from opacity.
Too cold to go outdoors, not too bad to sit in a restaurant and look at the underbelly of a bridge.
Saturday is always a fun day. Starting with the perfect coffee, my lunches usually are composed of delicious treats such as Manhattans, Cuban tapas and treats on the side.
It is difficult to present spreads from my sketchbook. Bear with me.
I like the treats on the side.
I have been anxiously awaiting the return of my eye and hand. The sense of power that streaks and gives me confidence. One week, two weeks… when?
When is now, and now is Spring. Maybe I’m emotionally drained from school or I’m trying too hard; Usually, that’s the case.
I can’t wait for the temperatures to reach 70 every day. Les fleurs attendant mes yeux.
Fun project I just finished for Sketchbook Skool. Love this group and enjoy tossing ideas around with other artists.