Month: November 2021

My Heart Is

masked watercolor, collage and rubber stamp on watercolor paper

Alan Gurganis story title snipped from The New Yorker. Yeah, I’m pretty proud of this one. Here’s the accompanying poem:

My Heart is a Snake Farm

              for Alan K.

Oh Alan, I’m lying,

and neither is it a lonely hunter,

pit of vipers, thrush,

nor is it buried in Venice.

Maybe it’s a safety friend

like my son-in-law

at the Children’s Museum

in Santa Monica, protecting

those coming close, circling,

and skipping out the door.

Collage for Collage’s Sake

masked watercolor, found burnt scrap and cut paper on watercolor paper

Quinn, 12, my grandchild, and I were walking through the neighborhood. Quinn picked up the “I’m a musical Neanderthal…” scrap off the sidewalk. “Do you want it?” I asked. Quinn is an artist and had dibbsies. ” “You take it,” Quinn replied, handing it to me. I pasted it to this card, and off it went, layers of gel medium protecting it, to another poet in another town. I parted with the rabbit off the front of a card I sent Jim’s mom years before she died. The rabbit is famous, from the Lady and the Unicorn series of tapestries we saw together at the Musee de Cluny in Paris even more years ago.

Bill and “practice”

masked watercolor, collage, and Stafford quote on watercolor paper

What I do is stumble, so I’m comforted to think stumbling might save me. And to practice, no matter the worries of the work not being enough, the craft lacking, or sinking or drowned. But putting one word in front of the other and carrying on.