High Desert Art
  • Jeanette Collins
  • Page I Painting
  • Page II Sculpture
  • Words...

Breaking

6/30/2016

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Picture
Breaking

Too
Much
News
Is
Giving
Me
The
Blues.
Some
Days
I feel
It’s
Better
Not
To
Know,
Than
Watch
Tragedy
As
A
TV
Show,
And
I do
My
Solitary
Dance
In
Total 
Ignorance.

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Tristesse

6/28/2016

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Picture
*Woman Fleeing* Dosso Dossi c. 1532
Tristesse

Struck
By
Love’s
Herb
Tipped
Spear,
He
Falls
For
A
Lady’s
Obvious
Charms,
And 
Tries
To
Take 
Her
Into
His
Arms,
Victim
Of,
By
Gosh,
By
Golly,
Fragrant, 
Flagrant
Folly.
But
She,
Ironed
By
Custom,
Pressed
Flat
By 
Habit,
Is
Meeker
Than
A
Rabbit,
Declines
A
Lover’s
Blind
Sacrifice,
The
Bloodless 
Wound
Of
Affection,
And
Runs
The
Opposite
Direction.
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Radiance

6/26/2016

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Picture
Radiance

The
Impatient
Sun
Climbs
Up
And
Over
Our
Endless
Trouble
And
Warring
Rubble,
Fiery,
Sublime,
Awaiting
The
Time
Some
Critical
Node
Will
Explode,
And
Fling
Mankind
Beyond
Mars
As
Desolate,
Black
Stars,
Leaving
Silent
Space
In
Which
To 
Cast
Without
Fear
Luminous,
Flaming
Sparks
Into
The
Dark
For
Eternity,
Year
After
Unnumbered
Year,
No
Destructive
Human
Near.

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Shower

6/24/2016

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Picture
Shower

I smelled
The
Rain
Before
It
Came
Loafing
Up
From
The
South,
Bringing
The
Taste
Of
Dust
To 
My
Mouth.
Quarter
Sized
Drops
Spatter,
Dulling
The
Traffic
Clatter,
Sparkle
In
The
Trees,
Blow
Sideways
In
The
Breeze,
Then
Abruptly,
The
Brief
Deluge
Leaves.
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Solstice

6/22/2016

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Picture
Solstice

I waited
For
Moon
Rise, 
Rare 
Honey
Moon,
Strawberry 
Moon,
To
Come
Bobbling
Up
Over
The
Mountain
Into 
Night,
Skim
The
Air
And
Gather
Light.
I saw
No
Color
In
The
Androgynous
Face
As 
It
Assumed
It’s
Place
To
Glow,
Riding
Low 
In
The 
Sky,
Matching
The
High 
Sun’s
Arc,
Illuminating
The
Summer
Dark.
I asked
A 
Blessing,
As 
Ancients
In
The
Past,
A
Wish
For
Some
Earthly
Boon, 
That
Like
The
Moon,
Could 
Last.

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Tilling

6/20/2016

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Picture
*Detail: Woman Planting* Van Gogh
Tilling

Eight 
Months
A 
Year,
I flutter
And
Fawn
Over 
My
Stubborn
Lawn.
I water,
Weed,
Fertilize,
Aerate 
And
Seed,
Give
It
All
I’m
Told
It
Will
Need,
But
Whatever
I sow,
The
Stuff
Simply
Will
Not
Grow
High
Enough
To 
Mow.
Some
Tough
Desert
Breed
Planted
Folly,
And
A
Wicked
Blight
Came
To
Pass
Called
Buffalo
Grass.
In
The
Night,
His 
Vengeful
Spirit
Haunts
The
Town,
And
Turns
All 
My
Efforts
Brown.
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Passenger

6/18/2016

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Picture
*1941 Cadillac Hood Ornament*
Passenger

I’m 
Traveling
Through
Life
In
A
Vintage
Car 
With
Two
Dents
And
A
Prominent
Scar.
The
Chassis, 
Still
Fit,
Has
A 
Lot
Of
Miles
Left
In
It.
Sure, 
There’s
Some
Wear,
But
The
Upholstery
Hasn’t
A
Single
Tear.
The
Paint
Job
Is
A 
Little
Thin,
But
Listen
To
That
Engine!
Take
It
For
A
Spin, 
And
You’ll
See
How 
Great
A
Ride
With
Me
Can
Be.

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Dramatis

6/16/2016

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Picture
*Othello and Desdemona* Roman Romanyshyn
Dramatis

Othello
Was
A
Brutal
Fellow
With 
A
Streak
Of
Pitiless
Yellow.
Thinking
He 
Has
Discovered
Des
In
Media
Res
With
A 
Lover,
He
Choked
The
Life
From
His
Unfortunate
Wife,
Claiming
He
Loved
Too
Well.
This
Military
Mercenary
Should 
Roast
In
Hell.
I have
No
Time
To 
Forgive
His 
Heinous
Crime,
And
She
Might
Have
Known
He
Could
Never
Believe
Her
Worth,
But
Would
Erase
Love
And
Her
From
The
Earth.

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Game?

6/14/2016

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Picture
*Woman Writing* Johannes Rosierse
Game?

Poetry 
Is
A
Particular
Conceit,
Able 
To
Defeat
Verbal
Vanity
And
Perhaps
The
Inanity
And
Every
Day
Squawk
Of
Empty
Talk,
That
Says
What’s
Needed
To
Say,
But
Contains
Little
Or 
No
Play.
Take
Time
To
Form
A
Rhyme
And
See
How
Pleasant
It
Can
Be.
Before
You
Know
It,
You’ll
Be
A
Poet.
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Souvenir

6/12/2016

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Picture
Souvenir

Photographs
Put
Away,
Remnants
Of
Another
Day.
Captured
When
Young,
Mouth
Open,
Song
Sung.
They
Whisper
To
Me
From
A
Book
Where
I no
Longer
Look,
And
With
A 
Sigh,
I don’t
Reply.
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