A long haiku

  1. 01. A long haiku

    Chipped Hello Kitty fingernail polish

    painted on by a godbaby

    who’s turned into a godchild

    Aching knee from

    muddy mountainside hikes

    and being Thirty-Plus

    Star Lillies

    wafting their intoxicating perfume

    welcome back

    I need more Titanium White

    Twenty Five degrees

    feeling like 50

    And remembering Forty degrees

    feeling like 20

    I turned into foreigner

    driving through snow


    black Ice

    without buying a carton of milk

    Sapphires glowing differently

    Looking into the lined face of a child

    who’s child?

    Looking into the lined face of a future

    my future?

    Every loss of a word

    giving me a new pause

    Low hum of anxiety

    stealing sleep

    stealing comfort

    stealing beauty

    And so I repeat




    Wherever you are

    Wherever is enough

    Always leaving

    always coming


    When did I turn into a gypsy?




  2. 02. And I thought I’d write just a sentence

    These days:

    Maybe you’ve noticed. Maybe you haven’t – god knows we’ve all got better things to do than check randomly updated blogs of pals, sewists, or restless hearts – but if you have noticed the infrequency of my posts then yes, I’m only flap tapping these days when I have something to share, a little something to say. These days -I’m a bit like a magpie with a mended broken wing, more reserved and a little less fool-hardy from the fall.

    It’s a joke amongst friends – how I live under a rock for most parts when it comes to musical, or pop cultural items. So I recently found this version of a song & I’ve been tickled pink (except that iTunes seems to not have it for purchase). The rest of you probly found it in 2001 -when it won a grammy. Under A Rock I tell you.

    It’s Dolly, doing what Dolly does best: arranging. The woman is a song writing & arranging genius & a comedian, & a southern gal -with big… hair. She’s one of my big damn heroes sir.

    I’ve got it reverberating in my thumping wee heart. Interesting how sometimes we aren’t moved by a creation of art until it’s taken and molded into a different & same thing. I think musicians are so much better at sharing than the rest of us artists.

    The video & the way she sings it makes me remember what I love & miss about home. I’m playing it on repeat. I do that. I fall hard for a song and then I drive my dog to drink from playing it over & over.

    Speaking of that – have y’all heard of this? It all started from good southern whiskey from what I’ve gathered…

    SouthernRoutePhoto “Starlings Above a Cornfield at Dusk, Mississippi”   in the collection of The Southern Route Photos and Words by  Tamara Reynolds Found on a fabulous site/ project/ community: The Bitter Southerner

    I love this dude & his compatriots who have founded a much needed website & dare I say, movement?

    In his well written & lengthy explanation of The Bitter Southerner (which you know I love) he says this:

    It always comes down to that last bit: With all our baggage, how do we live at all?” 

    Yes sir. And whilst I don’t find myself “bitter” exactly. I do find myself riled on occasion, frequently enough now that I am an expat that I’m thinking of getting a tshirt from their general store.

    I got lost in the essays during my first visit to the site. And dang if I didn’t discover it from clicking a link to a link to a link from fluffy Pinterest- following that South shirt all the way home.

    Check them out. 



    Those are my discoveries. My workings and doings look more like this:

    I’m oil painting. Never saw that one coming.


    I’m painting Skies. I love a western sky. Cloud rises really. I don’t care that it’s fluffy bunny and that galleries won’t be calling any time soon. I’m in this for the love of the light.


    I’m sketching for UA. I keep thinking one day I’ll grow up and know exactly what I’m about but that’s a lot of hot air isn’t it? I wish I was taught as a kid that we never grow up – we just try things, know more, find out we know less, put another foot in front of the other & sometimes it turns out that moved us forward and sometimes it turns out it just moved us around and around.

    I’d say the secret to living well is to try things, put your whole self into them, fall down, get up as gracefully as you can, or messily too -but be honest about it, try something again. Try to put your whole self in again. Pray. Scream. Keep on.


    I’ve bought a bit of beautiful fabric. I like offering a precious few fine things. It takes me some time to figure how to use fine threads in a way that makes them timeless, that heirloom quality both loud & elusive.




    That’s my lately.  A foot in front of the other. We’ll see where it leads.

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