dance

into the sequence of time
in the sequence of paintings
the ones in the wings
forever,
for a reason
only they
could know, they
step forward and then
the dance
begins
again

what's it like when somebody likes your children?
it must be strange from the outside to
find someone nurturing inanimate objects...

are they a bit like ghosts? P.B.

responce:
not ghosts but ephemera materialized
or the multiplexed layers of being captured
yeah maybe thats like a ghost S.D.

the pleasure of exploring
the versatility of oil paint
can not be understood
from behind the line.
the solid colour
transparent pools
pouring into gravity and
do the colours dance
in the space between words
when no-one's there to see

when painting emerges
through body memory,
experience is transformed
into intuition-
the wider the experience,
the more likely the landing
in a leap of faith

the boat's string mop
is good for releasing avalanches
from inside the boat shed

in the sequence of time
in the sequence of paintings
the ones in the wings
forever,
for a reason
only they
could know, they
step forward and
the dance
begins
again

painting out-doors
is a winter sport
like ice fishing

it raised some
eyebrows
on the Vineyard,
where there were two horses
watching from across the fence,
curious about what i was doing

beauty elephant speaks

i hung an ancient wooden door,
original latch and cast hinges,
white porcelain knobs

plumb
on two intersecting
floating
sprung spruce arcs
curved threshold in
persistent red elm


the compliant artists agree
to discredit the pursuit
of beauty and banish
the word itself

the speaking
might remind us
what's at stake