Song I Gave to the Sparrow: poem illustrated

So I finally finished this one today.  I didn't get around to doing much else, though. At least I went to Red Cup and paid up on the kayak.  I had a delicious Frito pie with mixed greens added to it. Yum.  Talked about art for a while, and talked about ashes and memory, too.  But I finally finished this illustration. The camera doesn't capture the subtle pattern in the fabric used for the tree's leaves.  I used three old shirts for this (the tree leaves, the blue background, and black figure).  The tree trunk is felt, so I had to stitch that down instead of using fabric bond and an iron.  It would've melted.  The fabric used for the hills came from fabric scraps I bought at a store. The bird in a nest I had used in one of the Chakra collages. I dismantled them this summer. Oh, the music is from sheet music I found in an antique store and the wooden plaque is recycled from plaques that were once used but headed for the dumpster.

The poem, "Song I Gave to the Sparrow", can be found in the Oklahoma Writing Edition of Sugar Mule.

Illustration: Song I Gave to the Sparrow

I'm working on the second fabric collage to illustrate "Song I Gave to the Sparrow". This one will have some other objects in it, like the paper music and the bird's nest, maybe...

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Black Crow: poem illustrated

Here it is, finished! I debated on beads, buttons, and ribbons but I think keeping it simple is best. The colors aren't showing very well.  That's a full moon in silver satin.  The little bird is blue. There is some mesh netting coming from the man's mouth across the frame... That's how I guessed smoke could be portrayed...
The poem, "Black Crow", is published in the online version of Sugar Mule in the Oklahoma Writing Edition.   A print edition is due to hit the press sometime in November and will be available in December.

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Illustration: Black Crow

I am working on some fabric art ideas that illustrate individual poems from my collection, Rise When the Rooster Crows. This one is for "Black Crow". Work in progress.



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Kayak love

I went kayaking out at Lake Overholser recently. Here's a few pics from the adventure. :)



And then I loved the scene around Overholser - so full of trees and birds and quiet without big city buildings in view.



And then I bought my own kayak from a local musician friend - I love it's story! Here it is on top of my car just after I bought it.



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open windows

I want to fall in love one day.  To feel loved and to experience the feeling of loving someone.

I have loved someone from a distance now and I have allowed myself to cage those feelings, only to speak of them once face-to-face and to write of them once in a late-night email, with a response that was tenderly written. Yet, a great canyon of silence has grown between us since then.  I have searched for a bridge to cross over, but any that existed I fear he might have burned.  Why?  I don't fit some vision, or he is afraid of hurting me, someone he cares about, or I am too honest for his tender and scuffed up heart.  I have no answers that truthfully tell that story.  Only he could explain.  And he isn't going to, and I am not going to ask. I have waited.  I've not pursued anyone because I knew that I was not ready, what with all my searching and hoping. But I've finally packed my car and driven away from the canyon. It echoes the car's wheels rolling on gravel, dust rising, and no one there to say goodbye.  Farewell, friend.

And so the tide has come around, the wind is blowing across the lake, my paddle skims the water, and I see the reeds swaying with a late summer hope of what is possible, what is to come, what autumn might bring.

The screen door bangs with the coming autumn wind.  Wildflowers lean toward the rising sun and sway as it travels to sunset. I've opened the windows.  I want to fall in love again. 

spoken

I know I speak when no words spill from my mouth,
but if you would kindly please do me a favor:
Pay no attention to my silent utterances;
They speak what I cannot allow to be said.
I cannot recall what secrets I shared mutely,
what was said in a ring twist or waist-poised hands
or any other linguistic phrase of movement
that spoke in hand-covered whispers.
I will go out on a lake or into the woods
and be quiet in the wind or hidden by leaves.
Be still. Unspoken. Be quiet. Wordless.