S.B.T. 127

now the material is dated, sort of (recorded in 2007), however, the performance of gwbush doing a performance (art piece) is hilarious

thankyou to whomever it was, i can't remember who sent this to me, but thanks and if its you please remind me, thanks again

xxx

S.B.T. 126

“its been a long winter and it isnt over yet”

“spring must be nearing
to hear the frogs croaking
with wartled wisdom”

characters from faierie tales tumble down the hill
the scarf muffled sound of their cries falling
over snowdrifts, a hairpin maneuver of the pedal
2 or more or less to austeer the sleigh

spring whispers, when winter finally recedes
an exhalation of skyblue relief
who knew how long it would take 2 c vibrant nature appear
in a lilypadded cloak ribbiting

2.

what wonders r 2 b dis covered
each infinite moment of borrowd perfection

every gift of breath and width of eye

blink

hush it shouldnt be surely spoken

but simply undressed and awoken

in native cycles betokend

yeigh tho it sleigh
yo tho it snow in
prelude to the ideas of march
in which the winds do blo
or the wind doth blow
or dost bloweth through cloudfilms barely escaping
in so white of a sky so cool of a waking
so lively the singing of birds on the limbs
nudes of bonebranches pushing green trims
the robins return in 2 showers of wing
2 royal bluegrass and gold crocus king
in under crystals of ice 

'merging spring

xxx

S.B.T. 125

i can say a word a word like ‘drench’ to indicate a darkening or i could say ‘soak’ and i can xplein i use this word because it & yet but gracefully conveys a shadow, euphamystically lets say. choosing a paint color, at the moment it is greyish blackish and thin watered down sepia ink applied to shading the most academically basic approach to color ha ha. choosing a lightresistant color and inflecting into a contrasting surface, a luscious cream base a deceptively rich surface perhaps a surface that reflects designs i mean desires so i may use a pallette knife a dry brush  a comb or my fingers to carve lines apply textures, basically (use techniques) with the surface texture while the paint is still wet or create the texture through an overloaded paintbrush leaving valleys and hills of color in its wake. or do away with any kind of surface texture whatever and paint photographically flat in thin layers or in a gouache style to create some monumental startling superrealism but i compromise with loose relatively flat strokes. The effect can be conjectured easily sensing the language nuances and moods of color and how far they reach what particular shade is in complement and/or in direct/indirect opposition or satisfaction without letting go of the scope and compositional gestalting or the interaction of colors one to the other and each to the all within a defined space
the intermixing and laying of color. is a finetuned sensory apparatus emulsified. in an invision a blend to the outvision where hands eyes thought perception intertwine. the rightness of it and result indicates the next motion. now, the motion itself can become the central focus, like the action painter, makes those little repetitive stroke motions like a dance strokes bcuz the way it feels and it goes with the music ambient or played in the studio. and the visual qualities are intended to match the thrill on another level of perception and it will it will and will call it art.

lets say there is a pie, a key lime pie ok has discernable layers. the crust, the filling, the meringue. if the entire pie is all meringue certain selective tastebuds will find it delicious whipped and creamy, its sweet, it is easy to see, on the top, its fluffy. you know w/o effort what it is, its the white stuff.  the blending of flavor is just within that particular parameter. the kind of pie used in slapstick according to entertainment standards a pie in the face is supposed to be enjoyable shocking or funny to watch. i aways like seeing how it lands but it appears 2b soap bubbles not something 2 enjoy eating and they always seemd to be spitting it out or wiping it off. if someone threw a real key lime pie in my face i guess i would eat what i could of it before washing my face.

but i have digressed from the process of the painting. so i drove west to the berkshire mountains and stopped at the roadside rest the mass pike before lenox and quickly set up and within a few hours as it was cold, i had this study, done in acrylic and water on bristol paper plein aire. and i didnt paint what i saw entirely as there was snow and i didnt want so much white.

there was a slight accident there, a plumbing truck swiped the back side and cracked open the rearlight frame and the plastic red and orange colored windows popped out and lay helpless on the lot concrete. the driver jumped out, apologhizing, saying he was watching the painting and didnt see the car. “lets not do the insurance thing” he said after we’d exchanged id’s and info and numbers. the next day a man came and looked over the damage, took down model numbers and such and said he’d be back in a few days to fix it, saying sorry again for the accident looking at me i said “it was an accident” and “the driver was very helpful”. he said “thank you”

so the picture of the berkshire valley with hills and clouds by accident attained an unusual significance, albeit just 2 me and the driver of that truck, and now perhaps to you who would have thought “nice purple mountains” or something maybe like that or “crappy painting” or whatever if i only put the picture here and not the story. still there is the story which is a big part of it. the story/picture could be cleaner or more obvious but repetition gets tiresome after a while and i'd have to cultivate a new vein to keep shooting that dopelike agenda
which gets ingrained in the process as a blind spot unseen and needs regular checkups. when a viewer approaches the work they may see a blend of circumstance or at the least a projection. so it becomes clearer and i back off from any kind of judgement xcept i like it or not which is just what the child or uninformed would do, however the twist is in recognition rather than reaction. ‘hold” said the cameraman “suspend reaction....now, show feeling"










anyway so what happens in the studio later is that the study would be emplyed for further study and built into a final vision, a darn near serious painting ha ha. but no, i was more inclined to scan the original and put it through some complex selections and filter. and so it became the other thing. and then within that other thing i
found some creatures in the sky.
inside the lateral leap is a whole new thing. you want some pie? i'll make some java

xxx

S.B.T. 124

"you dont neccessarily want to kill your enemies. u want to recognize them. u want to escape them u want to control them u want to be aware you want to be prepared to meet them or he or she or it, and with the proper most genteel weaponry and a bullseye to the target theres no room for error alas your strength comes from seeing hearing and predicting” he put down the geflotti stick “and practice,” he faced the cadets rows of chins held erect in the same 64% angle all down the lines and intersections the same soft young skin and eager/fear mix of confusion the maze of youthful planets
“you see here on this map where we land” he said pointing to an oversized green thumbtack impaling the northern edge of the sahara “and this is where we will find conflict right here” and pushed a red tack on Tizi Ouzou between algiers and tunis farther in from the mediterranean
the young sargeant squinted.
later,
“no sir, my name is Sargeant, but i’m not a sargeant, i’m a private, private sargeant”
“fine private sargeant i’d like to call you private urgent ok that way some day you can look forward to being called sargeant Sargeant."
‘you mean get rewarded with my own original name?'
“something like that”
“one for all none for one sir”
“listen, urgent, u r a smart u s soldier isnt ya?”
“i is sir i mean yes i am sir”
“then movove yer goodfernuthin everlovin sonofamericanboomchild carcass
and remember your name Urgent your name is URGENT!”
‘SIR!’

what were they thinking? his mother: “that i would donate the living essence of my sons&daughters their literal physiques and bodily fluids to be torn spilled by error or accident or pure tomfoolery on some broad foreign seventeen times over bloodsoaked grim horizon what do they theenk we are all stuped?”
the official: we know u r not stupid. its just it doesnt matter anywhat you are as long as you can obey orders and the smarter ones r faster promotoed, torpedoed groundzeroed in2 full responshumbility for everyone elses actions no we applaud you for your courage we ourselve perhaps except general pattons drive wood b clueless ha ha and 4F"
the sweetheart: for whatever reason anything xcept treason or maybe that too if your father played by a redeemed martin sheen will give you 2100 dollars to get to canada.
later he wrote
‘amazingly enough they still love us here in canada. we love them too. we’re siamese siblings joined at the backbone. canada donated plenties of medical benefits our way to the elderly of the u s of a at the border we r like mexico maybe in some ways, a little hooter i mean hotter, a crazieur big lunk football player with tattered patches we whiz by on hockey skates giving u the most curious looks’

“anyway its time to shower cadets 12 at a time”

S.B.T. 123

the legend of the gypsy pants



on corsu, at the bend of the river Taravo if we build a fire and play music in moonlight at the bend of the river taravo gypsies'll roll in w/caravans they so love music and if you play with heart til mydnight the gypsy fiddler will gift upon u a special pair of patchwork sun yello pants. embroidered ejd with braided black & red lambswool rapt saddlestitch, with pockets shaped like crescent moons and in 1 pocket of these pants there will be three gold coins and a strand of pearls, opals, malachite and lapis thankyou kate our dashing runway model
feathers of firelight curve over the gypsy’s face his cheeks like the monte rotundo
sliding peels of color looped in volume above dissolving light
in a spirit that animates the horizon over the hills
and the mooon reflection on the rooftop waltzzing

baroque savoir faire aire air and silhouettes of olive trees with silvery leaf windchimes
“we enlist the olives to smile and fall” he said, sliding the viola slowly under his chin/he leans in closer to the light draws the bow
circling his eyes upward in grace...
Diu vi salvi Regina
Corsu (the birthplace of Napoleon,
dui di salvi regina corsu
the isle of fragrant scented machja
Terra Corsa



The Corsican Anthem

Diu vi salvi Regina
E madre universale
Per cui favor si sale
Al paradisu
Voi siete gioia è risu
Di tutti i scunsulati
Di tutti i tribulati
Unica speme
A voi suspira è geme
Il nostru afflittu core
In un mar di dulore
E d'amarezza
Maria, mar di dulcezza
I vostri ochji pietosi
Materni ed amurosi
A noi vulgete
Noi miseri accuglite
Nel vostru santu velu
Il vostru figliu in celu
A noi mustrate
Gradite ed ascultate
O vergine Maria
Dolce è clemente è pia
Gli affetti nostri

click the title sbt 123 for the podcast version

xxx

S.B.T. 122

i was so surprised to find this today at pat's blog, what fun! and here i thought i was being invisibly suggestive ha ha. thought you might like to share inotoriety in time: (and i'm working on some music more of music than what we call sound though it is accented with loopholes of sound also in some ways which will be posted soon at my podcast
Thankyou Pat, for giving me something a little different to say today and the photo i took it thinking of you and your adventures with the camera and the eye and the heart

here
and

there


the view from sunset hill, hyannisport
xxx

S.B.T. 121

this is just to remind us of the other spaces, where lets say, in a composition things are drawn out both literally & figuratively and etherreally really really and then a thundder a wordhammer just too heavy an iron curtain before it communistic tendencies but if we had the time...we’d listen to every sound like it was the first one ever heard ono matter what it is, so there you can pick and choose but its all the same quest for refinement of juxtopaxition and then something very sweet and clear
birdcall from an authentic and the sound of rain pelting the slicker and doors singing rubber boots guishing breathing up close in my ear the hum from the hills over taos a very quiet airplane overhead in stillness gliding
a door opens i can hear his jingle the keys the footsteps the silence the hall
the sound of the hard drive revving in bluish light and charcoal shadow and you walk to the kitchen and light a candle and blow it out again and light it again and stand there looking at it until entrance come looking for me i hear a knock
‘the doors open’ called out and every crinkle in your pants makes a sound and your feet on the stairs and it comes closer and closer and then suddenly by blending portation he appears leaning into the archway "ohio, um can i borrow the pencil sharpener",  "ohio goy zeyemasta i am making dinner after its done and we have eaten it, you can borrow the thing" without being greek about the meal 4 hours thats how it always is borrow lend the terms

the sound of cowbells horses sleighs jangling and keyboard typing and jiggling bottles on the back seat and radon static radio and cool deep lakes and gongs a foghorn a crackling shell thrown to the hardedge rocks by a seagull a wave borrowing time curling the lending of wings to the clouds all these things u r

S.B.T. 120

The work has been pinned to the line like a laundry of colorful sheets blowing in the wind, since Tara arrived, recalled as if some sunken treasure of the past extrudes subthalassicly to this recycled moment or has it always been this way? She dances behind the window in relative transcendent space, a hidden image in the time lapse camera, oh she could be from another realm entirely beyond the even there and thus abides.


this day advertising assaults occur as they do so, things like “You May Qualify For a Free Wheelchair” (watching thoughts while placing imagery engineering ad design this one will be replete with...heres what you really need - some medicis
Tara smiled eternalumination as I held her up to the window against speckled green patchwork spring ‘Tara’ I whispered without thinking ‘2012, the Mayan calendar, all those confluences consequences’ the ruby bindi sparkled transfixed my eye instantly, a cannonball burst a fire salamander blazes through cartwheels of chariots, there I saw a field, of red flowers open into the distance with the words ‘time will not stop how you know it was never started’
or did it say ‘.. know how it was ever started’
(they recede in extreme infinity perspective to the distant horizon like in Star Wars’ rolling intro...)
but I quite deeply forget where I saw it.

It would be good to support the living...Where did that come from? I witness my hand tremble as if it were not mine and in a chord with required reverent rites retire Tara to the tiny treasure trunk while i shake off the jeepers creepers.



xxx

S.B.T.119

almost forgetten in misst scarff nd foglight sstrripe, as if blest angelic coincident L landing in an buzzby berklee production # my close colleague from the past sauteed and sweetened design of an an oddly ominous company logo, clio worthy of nomination envelope and with great dane convinst me of its mysterious origin (not just that but my wellknown disdain for foil skillfully employed as a delay tactic hidden in the wrapping (that worked too! what a putz, anyway it funkshuns as an instanstallment while the scent of savory spice endures an incense incentive inside whatever you want will be key i tell you truly a word annoint mint with a name and it worked for helen keller surely and charming and decorated the neanderthals did more than grunt forsure they thought a lot about finding shortcuts

recently prior to an exhibit the coordinator asked me a favor asked for a tagline a lead some justificated monocle relactation. i was like i it sounds like street jargon i was like well up against the wall i turned my pockets inside out found a few scrap notes n crumbled paper some coins odd shapes and colors questionable vintage value tangled buttonstring bandaid sheer strip and evident comforts of shedding little white cloudpuff fairylandscape of linted fabric surfaces rubbing together over time ha ha thats funny but anyway i’m testing my foot steeping gingerly into a notorious stream as i understand it with full recognition of my part my dunction in it ha ha thats funny too sorry.

best to find a boat a real birchbark handmade canoe with no nails or glue anywhere too many words for ya or you dive in youknow like completely recklessly naked crazy maybe, and might find some extreme danger or maybe you can just put your toes in mallardstyle my choice or you could try to do it on phosphorous plastic beach rafts filled with air and tire balloons i dont know arent th tour guides for that sort of thing just find some old quote or something..not mine somebody elses, just a fie able b/u pocket with lint dust so more comfitting blurry on fingers gloved hands etc how it is but hey if u bought nothing new under the sun composed oldwave hypnodancing hardware well then i can see why indeed why who was it that said the earth is not flat oh yes that a courgageous contender of curvation

but if i had 2 HAD (Honorable Action Demanded) to under penalty say just what i told you b4 which was something onto for as long as i could rremember be4 it changes.
say i said 'umm the idea is 2 oer more in loose change', um that pretty much covers it right and not asking too much to understand right no no it has to be more meat dandies you cant just say that well heck why not i thought i mean when did dangly penchant pendant f justifiables oerwilhelm the act of observant antiabsorption prior, i mean when did seeing that end somewhere in history after picasso maybe it never started yet does anybody tell you how it is that they hear oh well never mind it must appear a sorrylooking roof and needs bolstering columns and some new beams they may believe in a godgiven right to fix everything the male religion while no one single athlete r artist r arbor u need u be u builded by acadesthetic carpentorial not any means to any ends rebuild a roof if it can withstand rain then well yeah as long as theyre not gonna wanna be paid for it z and this whole insurance thing blackmail and hired honchos just wanted to say that.

so sins they had to have something fr that paper i told them what happened. a package arrived on a sunday, it was 2 days ago, it was circumspected and when i tried to open it, i was interrupted by some surprising circusdance it was late in the evening when the package content ultimely uncovered in low light under a shroud (tent made from a silk sari 20' sq x6^n and then some.

the indian medicine bottle is formed of tranparent stone, of the amber quartz type delicately carved figures of sanskrit folklore dance strike a pose set between architecture of verandant archways, accented in three points along the arch with jewelstuds sapphires tiny and glisteny. glorius gold filigree pattern inlaid to top edge like counterpoint jsbach and ravi shankar warm and alive hammered into shape by hand hammered exquisitely and then inlaid perfectly, a tiny relic detailed statue the goddess tara trapped inside, the bottle is wrapped in a swatch of embroidered chinese silk inside a t.m.replica of a Qing dynasty trunk the far east painted laquered distressed immaculate miniature cymbal clash of mahogany. the tara embodied in silver volume with a ruby middle eye bindi and intricat patterns hardly and purposefully carved and suddenly i understood where it came from. you know the matteboard moment brightens what then realizes the comedy of fallen into amovisisigoth meowbius tunnel rock'n'ride thine art.



more later


xxx

S.B.T.118

a package arrived on sunday unusual, unheard of, but yes a strange envelope with the words “Please Rush” written in blue across an arched red swash. Enclosed in a tidy white crisp plastic bag with a rusty eddd jedd transparent screen print “USPS”. (logos are just everyeveryeverywhere just wanted to say that. well i was on my way out to join the ffeeders for their rounds about wildlife and there it was hanging on the doorknob like a soft bell ready to chime.

but it crinkled i mean thats the sound it made as i opened it and pulled out the patriotic redblue 8x10 picturesized envelope with a bulge in the middle.
i wonder) who sent it i turned it over and again over a name a return address a company I never heard of.  IXIX Industries  hmmm; I put the envelope on the mudroom table, folded the bag to my pocket, , spinning some time to wonder wander what it is, on saving the best for last* also not possibles in sync w/it have the chance to evolve to become an unpleasantlike usurperising something like a subpoena sub pena, or notice of some infringement in due diligence that some leo expects an immediate response to without almost no sweat in his chair. (infringements on peace safety privacy are newmerrilous and rampant just wanted to say that.

some time later i returned covered with dust and grit from crawling under my belly on a house to retrieve an injured hawk (many people con floo S whose clothes r xsepticably dirty at the wildlife rescue just wanted to say that.

I still have not yet opened the package do you think it could be...?
no idea i see well ok i will open it.

inside a windowscreen textured plastic envelope and something wrapped in tinfoil nestled inside, a small rectangular shaped object with handles perhaps a tiny treasure chest, i imagine...but
now, see i have an irrational fear of things wrapped in tinfoil, it was because of a dream i had when i was 8 years old no it wasnt a dream it was an audio visual experience in real time live in full awareness of being that was clearly what it was but i wont press the subject most people dont have time for it anyway just wanted to say that. billy bob thornton is terrified of antiques

he has to struggle to find a hotel without them in Europe. so allegedly committed to this fear he will sleep in the bus if he has to. i’m like that with tin foil scared good me too, tin foil and all its permutations. darn creepy.

because of tin foil i will have to get someone else to open the package,

later


this is not a copyright infringlement

this is appropriated aerreated art


*the true test of a best-for-last person is how they will eat a hostess creamfilled cupcake. those who lick the cream out at the end after theyve carefully taken apart the white squiggles and peeled the thick frosting onto their shnozzolas, and then delicately bitten off the top edges of the cake, those who at THAT POINT decide to lick the cream, those are certifiable

xxx

S.B.T. 117

Intrigued by subject object abject inject eject matter, an instinctive creative urge glows and turns counterclockwise gaining brightness pulsing spattering sparks and spirals of faeiriedust trailing in soft space to become material, under sighs i mean signs a platform podium or a pencil with a steel string guitar.

the closing of the rose by tipota

Generated randomly, following a heartbeat schedule, words travelled by lodestar alighting at the sound of their own name “Winchester!”called out by a conductor near the stationstop. In such doings names became substance for they had a destination and carried third to fourth genre rations to fill foodbanks or you could say that by end of the third day something happened either of four ways, north south east and west tho there might be any number of stops between 3 and 11. Say is this that? “three days before, three days after” ie take it easy.

The newborn has a new name, and we need fresh underwear, talcum and a silk tie or scarf and fine outerwear so we can emerge ready for any kind of weather.
On public radio this afternoon, a lively discussion airing regarding snark versus wit. The title of the book is ‘Snark, It’s Mean, It’s Personal, and It’s Ruining Our Conversations’ - they r interviewing the author. He is antisnarkist it seems hmmmm followed by effervescent political speculalalations and news juice. Creative persons are struggling to define things, sort sift and plunk. Time, the magic carpet pulled rather yanked rather dorothied out from under Alladdin hanging by his knuckles clamped around the fringe tassles, whipping about new jersey roller coaster style. “Oh no! There goes the lantern!” he cries flipping over canyon.

The Rose is folding her petals. “We found it an extremely difficult thing to do” the spokesdoctor said, “these are extraordinary times.” he shifted uncomfortably nostrils flaring. This is Arkham I mean Brandeis University. Ivywhelmed member of the fundomental Boston brain trust in Boston (qualitative backward leaps=redundance), home of the Red Sox and the culture of highest eduvacation. (Bette Midler singing ‘the Rose’ trails off to neverland


Turkish coffee please, and a slice of la French Revolution. No, that slice there, the tart, with the peach on top, the one covered with glory granules, fresh flutes dipped in drummers with the guillotine garnish.

or as the captain might say, some ‘Lo yo yo stuff’

i wish i hadnt

xxx

S.B.T. 116

Two or more units of persnicker could potentially render any person difficult to live with. Any measurement over 8 falls into the completely intolerant perfectionist category. (cut to commercial:

“Why, even with the help of a support network and a plethora of therapies, my persnicker figures were still too fat. But with Doc DeJade’s AntiPerseverence Potion, I have been able to reduce my persnicker count to minus one. Now I’m happy all the time! If I could do it, you can too!” (wearing a kungfu costume, she twirls to show off her black belt.) “Call this tollfree number for a free trial offer one eight hundred hundred undred dred red ed 4 everything

A grimaldus is a measurement of pain. In a recent television interview a triage specialist tells a tale in a quivering voice about a man who culled 27 units of grimaldi before his twentysecondth birthday. How unfortunate. You can just imagine what happened after that. I mean he was programmed to do absolutely everything wrong for the rest of his life and never know why.

A wellknown psycholog who counsels veterans tells me he uses the grimaldus paradox equation without fail in diagnosticating prognostics and prescriptives. “You know the younger veterans, I mean, they dont ask for meds/some of these men now are grizzled old elastic bands pinging home wrapped around badgerie, badderies, uneasy ease, and relentless selfcapitation. The grimaldus levels are off the charts,” he said. Theorhetorical research reports predicted these men would never live down the embarrassment of having actually done what they were told to do. Samurai solutions are outdated and very little. The volume and weight of a unit of grimaldus varies among individuals, according to their cellular mass times the square root of horrendous experience divided by accidental injury with points added for illness. That may partially explain why the phrase “I feel your pain” has been dropped into the ‘palliative euphemism’ sector where a little over a decade ago it was an ‘almost believable common verbaculater’.

(lets see...so now to find a semitransparent mobius slip into ‘the new hope’ and/or 'the new drama’ anybody home today besides senator kennedy who cares about freedom the f word in creative agenda? cough, we wont even go there, just twirl three times click your shoes and think WPA WPA. The arrow pointing right to this chunk of land here, the U S of A. As for the rest of the world, what’s your xcuse?

a pisstomite measures units of, well you can look it up while I go see if there are any apolopierogies left over from lunch.....

ps. a 'warhol' according to wait wait dont tell me, is a unit of 15 infinitely expandable minutes.

ie 'worth your weight in warhols'

xxx

S.B.T. 114

the cats of lewis bay

the history of feral cats dates back to the first beach-cottage pilgrims who landed on sunny shores and believed that unspayed abandoned felines could take care of themselves. when vacation was over, they were left behind: generations spawned by ‘vacation kittens’. a notice tacked on the telephone pole says ‘abandoning animals is an act of cruelty’


webster and ali (after muhummad)

since i came to live at the old family compound five years ago, i’ve been rescuing wayfaring cats and nurturing wild kittens. the shelter once was a garage, a walk-in most luckily attached to the house. heated too with a backside 'garden room' and bright windows designed some sixty years ago for winter seedsprouting. there is now a closed circuit tv monitor upstairs so i can work in the studio and watch (hear mostly) the animals. what i hear said most often: ‘it will take a team to be able to catch one of us when you have a scheduled medical’ and there are some good people who donate their service in servitude to the silky swift ones. but we have had to cancel and reschedule numerous appointments at the vets just the same.


elohim, bottlefed foundling, survived

they came because of the plentitude of birds in the yard. my aunt, a birdwatcher, invited mallards and other winged creatures to the land. (she would also graciously invite doorknocking witness preachers holding bibles in for tea and tell them how great it was to be what she already was and they would leave converted) thea specially loved the twitchy little chickadee with awe and reverence as tho mini-embodiments of the greatest miraculousnesss. she had a sweet singing voice and introduced me to opera (la boheme was the first) and serious literature (shakespeare) as a young child. for some reason it sounded like fairy tales when i was little but made no sense at all once i got to high school. one day, i’ll never forget, as we were crossing a puddle, she called me ‘observant’. i was three and i needed to know what that word meant right away no time to wait. and so i learned what ‘observant’ was and it became part of me. when i was seven years old she handed me a mysterious asian book with tissues over brushpainted leafs and gold embossed bindings filled with sparse lines of haiku and i’ve never been the same since.


a young plump yellowshafted flicker - the photo surprised me with a feather pattern on the birds tailback, that looks so much like calligraphy from the I Ching





her dog had just died and she was sick too. there was a heavy coat of sadness covering the walls.


acrylic/paper portrait of thea i did a long time ago

after she died, i continued feeding the birds, in fact, widened the circle of birdfeeding considerably. where before there’d been only two feeders i bumped it up to seven. and then slowly the deck became a giant flatfeeder too. the birds were literally flocking to our trees, dazzling me with their predawn concertos and melodies calling from flashes of wing, entire winds of wing if u will.

soon thereafter the roaming cats made their presence known. a whole year went by after thea died, and i didnt even know they were there, breeding in the tumbledown old cottage at the back of the lot. testament as to how stealthlike and inscrutabullish the felines truly are.

the cats opened windows and showed the pathways of the fox, possum, chipmunks, squirrels, ducks and turtles all frequent visitors to this rough rocksoil pebbleground where you dig trenches and put in peat if you want a garden. the earth is slippery sand below the feet on this here street. they make it look green just the same , the grasses and trees who happen to thrive in salt air, high wind, fog and mist, they make shade ripples and tarnished silvery chimesound in summer. and there is something about scrub pines like saltcrusty old sailors crooked and wry wiry irey


nuthatch on scrub pine, watercolor on flecked rice paper. nuthatches r the only birds who walk headfirst down the treetrunk. i know they are not so blue, they are more grey but i liked it blue

theres a protected marshland across the street, an untouched teeming wetland where there was a coyote invasion a few years ago. one appeared one day in the yard, it was mother’s day in fact of 2006. i left coffee company to go outside for a minute, the topcat was out and i went to call her in. suddenly i realized i was looking at a coyote at the far end of the driveway and ‘wow its as tall as a donkey’ i thought and similar in some points of reference. coyote likely scented the cat who was nowhere to be seen, but by then i understood cats and how they know exactly what to do in awareness of danger. a big if but she was one smart girl.

my brother and i chased the coyote away, waving old wooden stickswords i used long ago in shim gum do zen sword practice, hollering like we were about to hyeeee break a brick with your bare hand. the underside of coyote feet in thumpiddythump receding, then galloot galloot away, but i knew coyote would be back because he was running for the thicket of gigantamansions along the harbors inside edge. no scrappers, indeed no garbinging for foodsource, people who own those houses are rarely in them. they stand empty most of the year. but thats another story.


detail: 'grackle on beachgrass' acrylic on paper

so i call her now, and she crawls out from under the car, somewhat shyly trying to hide her excitement. she makes me laugh this little hussy queen of everything around here. she meets and greets at the door for me and tends the printer when its cranking. she insists i call her ‘majesty, the best queen in the world’. she’d answer the phone if i let her. she helps with preparing checkins for indoor life, having been there herself, she is the living testimonial to x-feralhood. nothing she likes better than parading pufftailed in front of any newcomers, pointedly purring against my legs. she is a benevolent queen too. prefers to wait until the others have been served rather than demanding to be served first, the antithesis to what most queens do. she waits in silent acquiescence because she knows that the upper crust of the hierarchy, me and she, will be breaking bread at the same time a little afterwards.


tindi taking notes

i follow this saying from an old jewish proverb: always feed the animals before you feed the humans. (but i think they were talking about farmpeople with goats cows and chickens) which sometimes isnt easy to do after a long night of artworking sparse sleep and postfast hunger. so i keep muffins in the freezer for those times, i figure thats not real eating. and i figure this life is real fellini felinicious and suitable to la boheme. for now. anyone need a few mousers?



xxx

S.B.T. 113

the flying cube in the yellow sky


behind the stage at night in dustlight
the chorus tiptoe backs to the wall slim down sheeps corridor
unblanched do you know what i mean
its oiling meditation in catalonia between 2 tapstime.

“the entire building is located inside the flying cube” a gargoyle gurgles
automat voice tickets r on sale at the box oxxix helicopters can carry you
for a fee fi fo fum soldiers hand wigs thru the door
and dash cushions on the floor
the show starts wherever you get there

zipped stickysuits crash against the clouds stopmotion legs dangle the sky
thin cheesecloth veils welldraped before god google above the cathedral feather
you can hear the bells at the toll booth and bulls lock the toolbox
cheers drift over the racetrack rainbow, mustardpowder rising offa bungeejumpin bones

and disappear ring hoofes in the wind x hailed to all forevergivingness
backstage the laughing cubist men wash down wine in cymbalist jollery high hat percusso
spoonsize sugarcube men so sweet they disappear from the plate in no time
(at teatime the woman with the monogram forehead offers fresh dill of periwinkle

tho they are yellow and look like acrylic french manicure from the sandaltoe runway.

we open a book and she clads her eye in glass. the little moss girl listens aloud
spreading ivy up the brickwork finiculee finiculah cmon up here the shows just startin
tellem no way bubbleroo uh uh

dontwanna be a screwed up sunnavabitch by my own hands yore ether

net worth rhumba or rawquiescent acquazither

wartorn patterns of wallpaper waltz
preshush sh sh shoes as she sweeps
sparkle to save the bleeding guernicow
choreograft boxing turns a punch
away easy....





(for an important synoptic click the title sbt 113)

S.B.T. 113

prophecy through process. if you are true, it works. however like with nostradamus it takes a toll.
 if you use time like fractal geometry, history looks colorful. the aliens think we are strange though. more on that later.





lumpy gravy liquidy quality that i like

might be reaching the outer limits of usefulness in some ways, obimans face he looks softstrong almost unisex but kind of redeemd michael metelica. i like her mystic egypt tassle dangling down too. and naturally her choice of egyptian theme and bathing beauties will win a prize 

xxx