inner art journal

under the heavy rain

coming out quietly

land snails

set the pace

of a dark summer evening

Have you ever observed that there
is no wall that’s flat, no edge that’s straight,
anywhere
in a human being?
I have and it has improved my seeing
around a corner or behind a thing
of late.

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.