This page expresses my unceasing devotion to beauty, creativity and the deep language of "soul". I am an artist by profession; however, I love art so much that I would draw, paint and write even if I was the last human left on the planet.

Most of the paintings displayed here have been sold; prints can be arranged, though, for a reasonable price. Some originals are still available, and I do accept commissions. These days, I also accept chickens, butter and clothing (and other goods and services) in lieu of typical currency. :)

I will post paintings as they are finished and as space allows; please SCROLL DOWN or see the archives to view all of them.

If you are interested in a purchase, please contact me directly at: aka.rhiannon@gmail.com.


Monday, March 8, 2010

Birthing Pool

Back in the desert, I used to dream of a place
green all year, where I could not imagine drought
except as an abstract concept.
Awake now,
the dream has granted me a grove
where ocean meets the rain;
persistent, subtle mists, and sprays and spates
in sideways walls of wet.

I wrap myself in plastic, to no avail,
for a determined hike on muffled trails, skirting
tiny bogs in open spaces, earth seeping back
what moss and ferns have given.
Every dissolving leaf or twig, every springing
fungus exhales an ancient, ancient perfume
of sharp, quick decay mixed with new, spring babyhood.

After a while, my face runs with rainy sea, sweat or tears.
I hear only my own heartbeat in this womb.

Today, at the end of my labored swim up the hill,
stripped of everything but love,
light spears the end of the fir tunnel
and opens the ocean cloud canopy
with diamonds.

Motion Sickness

To overcome the dizziness of the world,
first understand that you are
a whirlpool of a raging river,
a cyclone of an endless sky,
a spiral of the code of being.

Lie flat on the ground, the solid, still earth
while you contemplate the fact that you’re spinning
rapidly in space
in a galaxy that swirls your helpless self
into who-knows-what,
in a universe expanding who-knows-where.
Not only that!
From tick to tock,
the swing of the pendulum you make time with
can make you very ill, indeed.

So let go.
You’ll only float in the center
while you fly around
your edge.

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