Juuuuuunnnnneeeee

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

~

fireflies
tumbleweed a rusling breeze
nomads of the night sky

~

the unturned stone’s lost syllables

~

in the holy of the artist rides the shotgun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding A New Mistress

 

A found poem from the New York Times article:
The Man Who Saw America by Nicholas Davidoff
About Robert Frank ~ the photographer (July 5, 2015)

 

A Young Artist

 

One too many mornings of stubble
his melancholy eyes
collect the world.

He could have been anybody
in a casino, restroom, elevator
in a second-hand Ford.

In search of some moment
unable to explain.
A young artist.

In love. Alone.
Upriver into the heart of ambivalence
lost in a piece of the middle.

You have doubts.
You wear humanity differently.
The ache of a narrow bed.

The business of catching things
grasping at prayer
time to look for a new mistress.

 

ag ~ 2015

Ode To Summer ~ revisited

Some oldie but goody haiku and tanka for summer heat. Most have appeared previously on one or another of my blog posts.

Waiting
for what ?

firefly
after
firefly

~

fireflies
float
night
into
my
bedroom
mirror

~

a cicada’s
raucous call for a mate
makes me wonder…
should I wear
my low cut
dress tonight

~

night
of shooting stars
a naked beach
and foaming waves
oh to be so seductive

Published: Take Five
Best Contemporary Tanka 2008

~

blue again
no summer sky
blue… that blue
deep into the wail
of a saxophone blue

 

Published: Modern English Tanka
Summer 2007

The Seduction of Romance

 

 

Wee Flowers

s
o
m
e
times
the tiniest
flowers in the
teeniest of vases
catch our breath and
give the cheeriest hello
in a split second of delight
on a day that would otherwise
pass as a drama too complex
and sophisticated for the
delicate loveliness of
wood sprites unless
we unleash our
true selves to
play with
these
tiny
s
t
a
r
s

~

IMG_4965

Absence and Desire

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”
― George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman~~

~

longing as pleasure
its own seduction
deeper than desire

~

all night rain

in a dream

his wet kisses

~

soft ripples my body remembers for me

~

a bittersweet hunger
for more than just
a taste

~

a diva in my next life red stilettos

~

scant moon
a sliver between
breath and desire

~

ag ~ some of these haiku were previously published