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.