blues

thanks to Iryna on etsy for including my moon in man painting in her gorgeous blue treasury; it will be active till late on Tuesday, the 29th.
merci!

happy

happy holidays

11 11 + 2009 = 11

salem:
perhaps best put by a thoughtful visitor
2 'weens ago.
"Touristy, tacky, sophisticated, historic, beautiful, shabby quaint."

'nuf said,
ditto for me.
but being there
in the afterthroes of the ween,
on Nov 1st which happens to be
mi cumpleaños
was still a thrill.

despite the
colorful real witches,
little costumed
dogs in the streets,
and flores at
the witch memorial,







Día de Muertos
'twas not.
unfair to
compare:
undoubtedly.

repelled
as if by unseen
force at the entrance
to the psychic fair
in the downtown mall,
i couldn't book a reading
if my life depended on it.
the rank air of
commercialism had
curdled all enthusiasm.

so i began a meander,
taking
wrongturns
feeling lost
until i found
the perfect sinner's
café selling slices of
7-layer chocolate cake so
decadent,
it took 3 days to eat.




the majikal scent
of torte must
have reawakened
canid instinct
b/c i made a beeline
to the burying place w/out knowing how.

feeling at home
finally
seeing the tacky blue
flashing neon
ferris-type-wheel
foiling graves
in grim foreground
to its
frivolity
with no apology



particularly given
the puritanical bent of the 'yard,
i wished hard
these stones could
pulse warmth
on this cold cold day
spared for a moment
from majorculture
judgment.






blessed bea.

life in the moment

shout it out

when things began to darken,
sudden recall of the invisible army standing in support did wonders
to bring the light back,
just like this double rainbow perfectly bridging the pond which my two adjunct rainbows walked beside.

in the midst of fantasy 1,023: "Surrounded by the Buffalo Stampede" my attention was drawn upward, to the real 180 deal.

a man partially shrouded by his hoodie passed so i asked maybe a bit too energetically, "Did you see it?" He kept saying "Yeah, it's ridiculous" and walked away shaking his head.

a woman ran along the upper path some time later.
i had moved below, transfixed like it was summer and i was watching the great Karl and the other Flying Walendas on the trapeze at The Enchanted Forest again.
another inspiring, gravity-defying act that would be over soon too.
the suspense was killing me.

opening my mouth to shout "Look!" at the lady, the emerging sound came to a sudden halt. faint white lines snaking from her T-shirt up to her ears became clear.




when rainbows leave, where do they go?

its spirit was palpable long after the demise.
in the final moments, most of the arc gone, a sharp blade of spectrum thrust behind trees focused on their own passage remained.

the wooden tomahawk bought with saved allowance take away 45 years (or was it a few Sundays ago) at the Indian Village of the New York State Fair, in the booth next to the dancers' Turtle Mound, sits on top of books piled on the dresser.
always keep it close during sleep.

two blades: in shiatsu "setsu-shin", the cutting through of hands like knives to essence.

one life: same play; another act bridges back to the starting line. curtain rises
curtain falls. tomorrow we open again after taking it on the road.
it's been a hell of a run.

with shout-outs of gratitude today and über-saturated bouquets to members of my
invisible army; make that tribe.




among the many, to:

Denise for rescuing American Eskimo Dogs and for bringing the effervescent Mahriah to me and Bea.




and to Lori and Antonio, devoted followers of my blog...thank you both!!!

Check out one of Antonio's paintings, the wood series is among my faves:




all the connections
simply gorgeous.

healing touch

Back from Philadelphia, and into the whirlwind of an elementary school art room, yowza...
and most happy to have completed Level I training in Healing Touch for Animals as a result of the jaunt.

Blessings and gratitude to Carol Komitor, founder of HTA and my initial teacher; to Mary Beth, workshop coordinator par excellence and HTA practitioner; and to Kim, horsewoman with a way with equines without compare. Also to Carol, Dave, Eric, Taline, Sniffer and Sparkle for babysitting Bea for a couple of overnights and putting up with her "i can beat up my dog bed and i ain't even in the circus, yet, antics" and to Aunt Teresa/Aunt Tree, madcap cartoonist and songstress, who cared for the effervescent at times katz.




The result of HTA experiences, which include the small animal component completed last spring, has been among many things a deepening of relationship to the four-leggeds with whom i co-habitate. It has taken months to even mention it; its force has taken me beyond words.




warp speed ahead...... the show must go on
back in the art room, in full fall splendor and bloom with an energetic kick-off: game on.
As we closed last year, we were told to "take anything personal" off the premises, due to massive remodeling of the building over the summer.

(Imagining) i was fleeing (diva deportation fantasy #316) and could take only a few important pictures from the hundreds (actually probably way more than that) of visuals stored in my files,
herewith the collection i grabbed the last day, fearing destruction of them all otherwise:




Funny, what you touch
and vice versa.

color suite

like standing in front of the candy counter
while my neighborhood gang(sters) robbed
the owner blind of pixie stix
as i paid for mine,
just can't get enough of
that sweet color.

Photoshop i have,
i never get to it b/c
iPhoto is enough to
fry my circuits. i can
play for hours like this
even w/o my pixie stix.





















and sometimes,
the real thing is
just enough.

gotta have it....burning man

The vicarious view from here is admittedly comfortable, albeit humid and stormy in the Northeast.




It's not just me; seems everyone wants in on the act: even etsy is running a Burning Man Packing List featuring essential fashion and gear and most, well some, of this stuff is to die for, inspiring me to mark many more "favorites".
Trouble is, most of it is either for the 'man, clubs, or major faerie festivals, not quite apropos for the public school classroom. *sigh*


No matter; i'll figure a way to work it into the wardrobe...no one will notice.
Feast your eyes on the goodies, and by the way, one of my faves and previously mentioned, Lana Guerra, is part of the etsy spread. She has published her work recently in a book of this fruity-licious fashion. ya gotta love the spirit; raise it!

hanging

the glories of summer,
hanging,
creating,
refilling water buckets for
the furkids 22 times a day;
they like it cold.

it all drove me to make
poetic hangers,
a working girl's answer to
magnetic poetry, for which
you need time.

everytime you move your clothes,
you compose.
voilá.





sea-deep dusk
night snow

sea
deep dusk night
snow



(Click the pic to see this one on etsy.)




pearl bird
moon blue
traveler

pearl
bird
moon blue traveler

making marks

"Dear Dan,
I'm not sure if
you know me
but I love you."

Like lines of Nazca, marks continued to appear overnight
on a U. Albany campus walkway, next to the newly dredged
pond teeming with wildlife.

Recently spotted: calculus equations, love&hate notes
between couples, wannabe couples and messages by shy yet
obviously continental types partial to making their marks in
German.

Could this mark the beginnings of a new texting technology,
virtually free, save the cost of chalk?
One hitch: involuntary deletion due to: acts of nature,
scuffling pedestrians and golfcarts encircling Giants camp
like covered wagons containing natives.

After an initial abundance, there is suddenly a dearth of words
on the path. Maybe the markers will return again soon.
I've learned to stop and look long at these embellishments on the
way to the water each day, just to feel
the weight they carry.

OMG OMO

i thought i'd died and gone to heaven on earth after watching
this vid, sent to me by Dale.

it's all about the dogs

after attending a canine adoption clinic yesterday with my friend Sheila,
i returned begging the question again,
"what is it about a dog?"

the more time i spend with these guys, after spending a life doing so, the less i know. some day no doubt the answer will be found in some DNA-resonant-crossover-chemically-based-genome-vibrational-distant-cousin-to-a-neuron-recombinant-bark-cell.
but even then, based in another body, i won't buy it.
when you go eyeball to eyeball, even from a distance an opening occurs that is
transcendent, ineffable.




rusty, american foxhound mix, standing elegantly still on the curb as if awaiting the lord of the mansion's next command, has been eyeballing me as i rush by, i suddenly realize. and so i glance back, there is gentleness in those eyes but i am afraid to look too long. "prey drive" are the words occupying my mind, with two cats at home. rusty, more trusting than i; maybe the drive was mixed out of him.

flashback to The Visit to a hybrid wolf farm long ago in Pennsylvania, its founder and operator since departed. The Visit is an Experience never forgotten and always immediately accessible to me like it was yesterday. no eyeball to eyeballs there; you imagine they must at least glance at you as you turn away from the raised pens and walk to see the next, but you will never know. primate that you are, it is unfathomable that no eye contact is essential.

the suspended meat hooks as you make the long drive from the gate through the multiply-fenced property up to the fenced compound should give a clue as to the serious nature of the creatures within. but it still doesn't totally hit till you are standing a few feet apart from a wolf behind bars. there are many, and they are all pacing.

my friend Mindy is a foster mom at the time to hybrid pups bred here. flash forward to sitting in Mindy's farmhouse, watching her feed an armful of voracious part-wolf pups. they are furballs: adorable, feisty, tumbling over each other to be first. i want to take one or all with me. but what if someday they begin to shrink from a glance, pull back into true nature, go the way of the wildest part of themselves.

primate that i am,
i pass on living
with a predator
for the time.

bee's knees

to think that one slim year ago,
Bea the boxer referee
couldn't run, had major trouble walking.
check out her knees and mood now,
on one recent rare sunshiny day
in the recently unflooded back yard.




who's to credit for Bea's new right
knee?
Dr. Faulkner Besancon of Upstate Veterinary Specialties
in Latham NY, who performed TPLO surgery on the little
bea. He and the wonderful staff there, simply rock.

Bea is a living miracle, she proves to me again and again
the essence of life is to never give up and to love through the most difficult
times.

Dr. Melanie Mineo, opthamologist par excellence at the same locale, also rocks for saving Bea's eyesight just over a year ago.

Who makes repeated saves: cuts out tumors, heals Lyme, brings my cat back from the threshold and obliterates cat scratch fever from both my felines and not the kind on your iPod....
well, that's Dr. Laurie Coger of Bloomingrove Veterinary Hospital, who also writes an awesome blog, Pets and Vets.

These doctors are real people and yet they are blessed healers.
All three are the bees knees to me.




real life sans botox


same bee, different flower
he simply won't leave the stage