Welcome!
Read some words, view some photos or listen to some tunes...
even when real life gets in the way


Tuesday, March 04, 2014

An Afternoon in February's Sunshine

"Lovers alone wear sunlight" -- E.E. Cummings


P.S. I love you, Raven

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Epic

Just imagine, lovers in the 16th century had to wait months or perhaps years for their messages. I think an epic is in the works.

To the artist I am missing right now



Tableau 

The voice of your words creates a Color Field painting
decorating that quiet gallery of private works
to blush in the monochromatic.
Longing adorns the white space.
Never to question your designs,
how they gently sketch vignettes to be remembered.      
Golden rose and lemon light warm the space, leaping
from the depths of your deepest palette.
I am happily drawn into your canvas,
enveloped within your lustful blue seascapes with no horizon.
It is like dancing outside the lines in surreal shades of amethyst.
It is the riptide pull of a dream from which I wish not to wake.
What part of me brushes across your landscape?
I wish never to be a watercolor in the rain.
Like the Ming, that which brings together sun and moon,
your abstract brings ancient questions of intent
and how far reaching its pathos
but never does the artist nor subject ask why.



-Julia Rose

Monday, February 24, 2014

Together and centered as one

I salute the light within your eyes where the whole universe dwells. For when you are at that center within you and I am that place within me, we shall be one.
- Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux (circa 1840-1877)


P.S. I love you, Raven

Sunday, February 02, 2014

Wisconsin Winter Twilight



Wisconsin Winter Twilight


Scope of stark sable space,
enfolds the night sky above the horizon.

The deepening stillness is a landscape of forgotten echoes
just the shattering of ice crystals underfoot

Sheets of frosted brilliance,
gulp every sigh of the bristling biting wind.

Lily-cream moonlight under a frozen river of stars,
spotlights my humbled measure.

Remaining relentless in wide-open greatness,
Earth’s window devours me as a mere fraction.

In a field of lightly falling snow,
my small footprints fade.

And I remember buried colors of verve
waiting to be forgiven by a sage sun