art, humor, and the universe
I’m an urban naturalist. That means that I love my city (Baltimore) and enjoy wandering around looking at its denizens-pigeons, squirrels, sparrows, starlings, seagulls, and the occasional cardinal and junco ( a sparrow size bird with white belly and black head). There is a pigeon roost near me-an abandoned building with concrete bricks that the pigeons adore. Here’s some pictures!
pink morning sky
a cardinal drops by
Lately I’ve gotten back into watercolor painting. The tree paintings were inspired by a photograph by my friend Sooyong Kim. I found a caterpillar pencil sketch from summer and decided to color it. The abstract came from testing colors on a scrape piece of paper but I really like it!
water weaves waves reflecting brick and weeds window refracting sun sprinkling light on playful crests weaving water waves
Made a flag by sewing the legs of old martial arts uniforms. Here’s both sides.
Placid waves
wash warm
Over toes, knees,
belly to breasts.
Drink in sun.
Float
cotton-candy clouds
framing
rose,
lemon,
sapphire
sky.
Pale silver sky
reflects on black iron.
Fire escape raindrops
slowly illuminate
this visceral world.
Birds’ babble,
laughter
rises with mist
from the street below.
I smile and
close my eyes
in calm satisfaction.
I lie still
between soft, worn
cotton sheets,
above spring verdant trees,
mahogany branches,
as lemon glimmers
among
sapphire clouds.
I know the secret
of tiny mosaics
and that
magical
pink metal
laundry box
in the bathroom.
The fire escape ladder,
is my tree house
framed by wet-dark branches
and cobalt curtains.
The rain-bejeweled
fire escape
will take me
directly
to heaven.
Spring is the time of death.
Look out the windows;
Mist and memory drift
from the verdant hills.
At road’s curb,
mangled
bat wing
slate sky.
I drive.
Death lays.
Morning,
the young beggar stands,
blanket thrown over narrow shoulders,
flimsy white undershirt,
a pile of rags at his feet.
We in cars ignore him,
cast eyes at ruby stop light,
and rising cobalt sky.
Escaped sunflower,
sits in a car, a
moon faced woman
w/ styled bob,
reads her cell phone.
Wheeling seagulls
search for garbage.
Undershirt,
dull khaki jeans,
work boots,
he smokes the 2nd cigarette of the day,
carefully counts them out.
He carries his sign
with jaunty steps,
but
his eyes
are hollow.
dream
salt sea foam
clams scurry
dig themselves
into sand
as the waves recede
we are young
i wrap
burgundy and cobalt
gauze scarf
about my torso
my nipples show
i reach out
to touch
your silken sandy curls
as cigarette smoke
sinuously rises
your voice rumbles
weakens my knees
gaia mouse 