the worst of the scars, while
forgetting, more and more, what they look like.
The world doesn’t care, and toughly, tenderly
breathes me, in each moment,
bringing stories and pictures, green grass
and the smell of wet cedar.
Even when I imagined my abandonment or my prison,
the world arose with me each morning and
lay down to rest or restlessness
with me each night.
It became the door I locked
or the key in my hand,
it loves me that much.
When I wanted something to break
Form after form, thought after thought, age after age
"Canyon Goddess", oil on canvas, sold
In my dream, the water has finally come.
I've descended through ashes, through the portal of my own footprint
into the underworld.
Risen from your breath and bled from your eyes,
I am the libation that cannot be grasped, but of which
In my dream, the sun enters the day
I wade the late turquoise of afternoon
"Mussels and Cherries", oil on canvas, sold