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 Morning
Rain On Snow. No Clear Way To Know Whether To Shovel, Sweep, Or Give Up And Go Back To Sleep. What The Hell, It’s Just As Well To Let It Freeze, Or If It’s Warm, Produce Slush With Perfect Ease.
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 The
Beastly Trumper Slithers Beneath Dank Weeds, His Slimy Brood Whimpering Their Needs As They Grub Among Rank Misdeeds, Eating With Voracious Greed The Nation’s Wealth, Damaging The Country’s Health. Eating Until Nothings Left And All Is Lost. And Who Will Pay The Cost?  *Crows* Ink On Paper Morning
Light A Mist, Frost Kissed, As I rise From Rest, By The New Day Blessed. Crows Stalk The Side Walk, Patches Of Dense Black, Then Glossy Plumage Shining, They Rise Like Notes Of A Song, Remembered, But Long Gone.  *Mountain Snow* Ink On Paper A
Boa Of Snowy Cloud Slides Sideways Down The Mountain Flank, A Furry Shroud Shrugged From A Stone Shoulder, Slipping Gaily South, Boulder To Massive Boulder.  *Warren Keating* Rain.
Rain Inside, Rain Outside. Yesterday’s Sun Has Gone Another Direction, Obeying Nature’s Predilection To Shine Or Not, Leaving Me With What I’ve Got. But No! Now It’s Begun To Snow.  *Winged Torso* Cast Bronze Mahogany Base 6 1/2" HIgh Tracking
Down An Object To An Initial Plaster Carving, Then A Wax Mold, Then A Gypsum Mold And Finally, A Bronze Casting Of Dull Gold, The Labor Of Many Days. I wasn’t Looking For Praise, I only Wanted My Visitors To See This Close Aspect Of My Work And Me, But I began To Sense They Didn’t Want To Know, So I passed Other Things By, And Patiently Waited For Them To Go.  I’ve
Heard That To Gauge If A Person Lies, First You Must Notice Their Eyes. Shifts And Glances Indirect Become Suspect. Then The Tone Of Their Speech, Flat, Insincere, And Far Out Of Reach. And The Hands, Oh, The Hands, That Beckon And Beseech, But It’s Specious And Fake In The Gestures They Make, And I can Readily See This Sly Politician Is Lying To Me.  *Canyon* Pen And Ink On Paper Difficult
To Track Back To What Was Seen In Far Off Places I have Been. I took Away A Fragment Of A Day, And Marvel At The Way What’s Glimpsed In Passing Lingers For A Decade, To Emerge In The Last Thing Made.  Spent
Today Watching The Impeachment Hearings. Can’t Turn Away From What These Folks Have To Say. Some Speak Of Facts, But The Other Side Attacks Facts. It Becomes Easy To See Who Are The Fools, They Are The Ones Whose Questions Are Cruel. Some Carry The Flag, And Brag They Are True, But Those Upholding Our Law Know What They Must Do.  *Gabriele Munter* Woman In An Armchair Stolen
Hours, Time Alone, Solace For The Flesh And Bone, To Contemplate The Braided Thoughts That Translate Into Paint And Word, Silent, Unknown, And Unheard, Until An Object Comes To Be, For Anyone That Cares To See The Person That Is Me. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
November 2022
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