Month: January 2019

Schumann

Diagnostic rock stars

light the pink sickness

on my forehead

with the squeal of a spirochete.

I am sick.

The antibiotics climbed

the mountain

and blew away like ashes

at the top.

Who will I turn to

when the music stops,

perched on one screaming

foot in my box?

The seats in the crowd

are filled with the

whisperers.

On stage, the fully

realized monsters of

scientific sound.

Actualized mindfucks

who are going somewhere

because the conveyor

belt from the stage

runs only for them.

They see through me.

The extra vision in

my head a hammock

supporting the exhaustion

of my pine cone.

I have thoughts of lances,

of silver mercury

waiting for a cog rail

that sleeps.

I will take the mercury,

apply it to my forehead

like Ash Wednesday.

My Easter is on tour

with the band.

Grateful

The coordinates of my gratitude

are inestimable.

Somewhere on an earth of regret,

a small point of velour gratefulness.

The small seal

of my face

with the veritable scent

of a name

the size of a fall from grace.

Living at the bottom,

the detritus falls like

snow on the blanket

I never bought.

At the right latitude,

where it glides into

an unresponsive longitude,

the gifts given by the one

who burns my name as incense,

his arms draped in velour.

Freedom Through Art

Every single week I create some sort of visual art. Sometimes it is photography, other times painting or mixed media art. Sometimes I do random collages on my phone, or other digital art. Creativity is important to me. I like to use different materials and I am obsessed with color.

However, I am not an artist. At least not by the common definition of an artist as someone who is professional and highly proficient at art. I have absolutely no training, which I’m sure shows! I have not taken a single painting or mixed media class in my life. My senior year of high school I was fortunate enough to be able to take an independent study in photography and I definitely learned a lot in that. But that was when I was 18, and I haven’t had any training since then. I’m sure I could use it!

I create art because I love to do it. For me it’s very therapeutic. I am a writer, not an artist. My preferred medium is poetry. Due to my obsession with color and sometimes with texture, I still feel the need to have another outlet besides words.

Art changes me. It gives me a sense of freedom. Art prevents my life from becoming mundane. Although I do go through periods where I focus on the written word more than visual art, and other time periods where I just feel stuck creatively, art keeps my life fresh. There is always another color combination to paint or another technique to try. As I dive further into mixed media there is always another materials try to use.

On the surface, my life would probably seem dull to anyone who took notice of it. I am a housewife. I do not have any sort of job or attend any kind of school. My days are scheduled around my husband’s work shifts, my daughter’s tutoring schedule, her speech schedule, and my doctor’s appointments. Nothing sounds too exciting there. What no one would guess is that art keeps my life absolutely fresh. There’s always something new to do. While cleaning or driving to appointments might look the same everyday, every time I approach a canvas or a piece of paper it’s different. I can always try something new. My life never gets monotonous. Of course, part of that is my poetry, but a lot of it comes down to painting, photography, and other forms of visual art.