inner art journal

The Painter

One bunting seems to
make the rest of them, until
wind changes their paths.
“Look to the horizon,” I
used to say, “your eyes will heal.”

Cayuta Lake Inlet 5-2-15

a lynching
of carelessness
discarded
fishing line or
cord of some kind
now litter
inextricably
entangled the legs
of a seagull.
it flew then
I imagine
it’s wings
still free
until the noose
got caught
in limbs of trees.
struggle followed
exhaustion
then death.
it hangs
upside down now
like a pure
white
winged Christ
arms outstretched
crucified
for our sins.

a deepening furrow
between his eyebrows
this angry look
on my laid-back American friend’s face
marks his fifth year in Turkey

my tears

not as captivating

happiness rises

we are more than just this–

sunlight in March shines anew