poetry

On a branch in the back of my mind.

August 19, 2014 — Leave a comment
I walked to California in concrete shoes,
Midwest boy with the nothing-certain blues.
 
She walked right past me with a halo made of lead,
I turned to look when I should have tied my shoes and fled,
 
She looked like spring and I looked like a thousand winters.
whenever I got near her my thoughts turned to splinters.
 
 
 
 
I’m not often sure who “she” is, but that’s an owl, I can tell you that much for certain.  
 
 
 

It was her again, but it was all right.

August 10, 2014 — 3 Comments
She promised me poetry on my grave.
Or at the very least, to try and behave.
 
And as she stood there in the rain she made good.
I write my own poetry on a piece of wood.
 
Time yet not for a bed of dirt.
her words only echo they do not hurt.
 
Sifting through these ashes I found the words,
Bringing to page the largest of birds.
 
In my noblest of efforts to think ahead of my pen.
My thoughts drift back to her again.

The crow won’t fly.

February 5, 2014 — Leave a comment
Crow sits on a pen drawn branch.

Crow sits on a pen drawn branch.

I made this with a couple pens the other evening. I had the radio on and it played a song I liked a long time ago.

I enjoying the crows I see around town. This morning on my way to work I watched one dropping a walnut from the power lines above into the street below. His crow friends were watching and chattering loudly. All eyeing up his bounty, waiting for a car to unlock the goods. As soon as it did all alliances were voided in the chase for survival. Such as the deeds are all ways done day to day, whether we see it or not.

I see a lot of human traits in the crows around here and everywhere I’ve traveled. They chase each other like children on a playground. Holler loudly at passer byers like a drunk down town. Stand stoic like a poet lost in thought.

They embody well the poems with wings I strive to pin down on a page. Black as the night, but full of color.

Let the echo decide if I was right or wrong

February 2, 2014 — Leave a comment
When reading through the titles of the posts on my blog it won’t take long to find the musical influences on my artwork.
My dad shared a lot of really great music with me while I grew up. We went on a lot of  camping trips all of which involved a good ol’ fashioned road trip.
These trips are where I heard Bob Dylan’s music for the first time. Between Frank Zappa albums and NPR shows like Car Talk and Prairie Home Companion.
Dylan’s lyrics stick to my brain like glue, and climb out of my head to help me reference and sort out trials in my personal life and the world around me.
The end of a doomed from the get-go relationship last fall brought me to “It’s all right, don’t think twice”.
Just about any news coverage of violence brings me to “Desolation Row”….”The riot squad is restless, they need somewhere to go”.
That mysterious girl I met in the meadow last month reminds me of the words, “She’s got everything she needs
She’s an artist, she don’t look back,  She can take the dark out of the nighttime,  And paint the daytime black.”
Spending days on end working on these drawings furthers the connection some how.
Red-shoulder Hawk.

Red-shoulder Hawk.

Zone-tailed Hawk.

Zone-tailed Hawk.

From simple to sublime, I connect strongly to his poetry.
While I heard Dylan’s music a lot as a youngster, it was the Grateful Dead who I found as a teenager that brought me closer to Dylan’s work and more importantly his lyrics. Neither Dylan or the Dead will probably win an award for best singing voices, that’s not the point. Though I’m in so position to say so, I’d venture to guess it’s the poetry in the song that is the point.
I listen to a lot of music and I draw a lot of birds. There’s a connection there, but I’m not sure where and I’m not terribly interested in finding out what it is. I just know it works for me.
My goal above all is to share the results of such in some way with the world to give light to a beauty sorely missing in many of our day to day lives.
This will be how I save the world around me, or at least try.