sensory overload
of the future
this is why
I lapse to words
to make sense of meaning
the tape deck
warped from the heat
left to long in summer with windows up
and I am still sitting here
dreams paused.

When they talk
I don't understand
(or answer)
It comes to me:
I need a specialty.
But where do they find the time?
I'm all caught up
in reality.

I want to draw what i see

I want to draw what I see
not what I think I see
One small part articulated so that now
your eyes can grasp the enormity of its smallness
and contain its beauty
I want to capture not what I feel
but what you will feel
Collective undertones of burnt sienna,
rising from our burnt earth, burnt past
I want to see
Color, Shape, Line
the path a sparrow takes across
the runway of the sky -
the soft, beaded swell of lake against
vast ochre
I want Form, Value, Movement
the way you Run, & Breathe,
the sharp clutching of our diaphragm
the heavy gray of our lungs.
I want to be What Is,
and draw what is now & forever -
not.
Meaning making
or making meaning? What Is
the answer to art
Might any of it be Real?

apprehensive and alone

I have the sense that everything could fall apart
as easily as with the touch of a finger on a newly opened leaf--
Dear future President,
we are trusting in you, that you are braver than you appear
braver than we
and we are too afraid to hope
you might bring change.