June—a favorite month to be outdoors—to breathe the nascent summer scents, to listen to birdsong and bellowing frogs and wear the warm cloth of the summer sun on bare skin. Evenings too, are especially sensual and sweet with fireflies (or lightning bugs), soft breezes, rustling leaves and rain or stars pulsing a sticky sky. It’s a perfect time to sit and write, read poetry and indulge longings of the creative sort. With that in mind, I let go a free flow of hand through brush and words come what may.

This June, I also watched and was engrossed in National Geographic’s program Genius: Picasso and was very inspired by his relentless pursuit of his artistry and his sad pursuit of women/muses often to the detriment of their lives. There is much debate these days about whether or not one can/should separate the art from the artist. Picasso was narcissistic, egotistical and highly competitive, traits I most often find offensive. However, watching the brilliant performance of the actors on a small screen, his story in hindsight and empathizing with Picasso’s process and pain as an artist, I was engrossed and inspired by his vision despite these flaws. Also with his circle of creative compatriots—Matisse, Gertrude Stein, Braque and others. I will read Francoise Gilot’s book Life With Picasso to get her take on their life together as his lover and contemporary artist. From the blurb: “Francoise Gilot paints a compelling portrait of her turbulent life with the temperamental genius that was Picasso.” Oh, and he was a poet too.

So this warm but comfortable night, I share these thoughts, words and paintings:

O me!
O Life!
A few pencil strokes between the o
in Picasso
and Grillo


tumbleweed a rusling breeze
nomads of the night sky


the unturned stone’s lost syllables


in the holy of the artist rides the shotgun











Intention vs Attention

I was going to blog this morning about the difference between setting an intention and paying attention in regard to my painting. I  was also preparing/writing for the start of the Chinese New Year – 2017 is the year of the Fire Rooster. I spent quite a bit of time writing  some very sharp, double-entendre, off-color-crass-albeit-funny short poems. All political and using the urban version of cock for rooster. I’m sure I do not have to elaborate. It was almost fun, and yet it wasn’t. I love when humor is used to make a point otherwise lost if it doesn’t make us smile at the same time. On the other hand, I do not enjoy or appreciate humor when it is used at someone’s expense, feels mean or like a hidden attack. I also do not believe that just because someone is in the public view by choice, that they are candidates for personal attacks through hurtful comments or humor. Comedians, just as jesters and fools in the King’s court before them, do play a critical role in keeping us attentive and honest. When humor rises to its full potential as a trickster who teaches, it is on a par with wisdom in my book.

So here I was using humor in a more derogatory rather than understated manner. It was not my intention to be hurtful or just  clever in the name of haiku or humor. But I wasn’t paying enough attention. Thankfully, my heart and my body (gut) hold my head accountable. I woke up in a sweat. It was time for a review of my intentions, and how I’m paying attention. More to come.

All that being said, I probably will post a few of the haiku I wrote. I’m not opposed to gallows humor or laughing at myself/ourselves when the situation calls for it.


all the language
managed in a lifetime
play ball