Thursday, May 28, 2009

Cedar chest.

Wound about in silver hair.
Arranged in unlikely angles.
Joints creaking, fingers snapping, elbows popping.
Smelling of sawdust and last breath.
More dead pixies.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

One eighty.

Bit of a turnaround. Really it's just inspired by the last trip up to the attic. The grooves in the upstairs windows are filled with the tiny sunbleached corpses of a thousand ladybugs and their housefly nannies. Regina's lost brood. I'd long suspected her to be something of an absentee dam, but being sole witness to the slide of a generation into its own golden dust demands documentation.

Friday, May 22, 2009

I'm. In. Heaven.

There was a magical moment last night at Wegman's when every woman (and one stoned guy) was singing along with Mariah Carey's "Fantasy". The frozen foods section burst into dance.

No exaggeration.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Te llamo? Mallo?

Last of the bunch.

Terseness at its cryptic worst. Thank goodness for the eloquent image.

Friday, May 15, 2009


Opted out of wings and tights for the series. Really wasn't my decision. If left to myself, I suspect I'd have had them all dancing with bees or curled up in flowers. Fireflowers.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


Sketching out some bookmarks for a fave's fourth grade theater students. Could do this forever.

The devil's in the details in these kids' drawings, though. Been agonizing over the barest hints. Those three lines at the back of the head, for example? Are they the suggestion of speed? Heat? Impressionist dreads? Check out those arms--both clearly behind the back. Is that part of the process of fire-sculpting? Will they notice that I quite literally put his wrong foot forward?

When all's done, I'm putting faith in the ability of dragons and firefoxes to distract your above-average ten year old male.

Thursday, May 07, 2009

I even seen a barn dance.

Miss Mary Mack.

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack
All dressed in black, black, black
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons
All down her back, back, back.
She asked her mother, mother, mother
For 50 cents, cents, cents
To see the elephants, elephants, elephants
Jump over the fence, fence, fence.
They jumped so high, high, high
They reached the sky, sky, sky
And they didn't come back, back, back
'Til the 4th of July, ly, ly!
I'm going to pretend I knew all along that was a naval reference. Or that I knew of the poem's existence at all, for that matter. Though I'd always felt a prickling annoyance at the absence of ironclad lore. Yeah.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

J&H: Part Deux

Dear Caller,
Only interested in things that have existed, might exist, will exist, never existed. Nothing that actually does exist.
Out of Touch

Monday, May 04, 2009

Stirred, never shaken.

Not quite sure, but I may have printed Stoli on one of those beakers. Nestle Strawberry Quik on another. Either one is quite a high. Just watch for those mid-leap transformations--it's a long way down between buildings.

Friday, May 01, 2009

The play's the thing.

"As full of spirit as the month of May
and gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls."
William Shakespeare, King Henry the Fourth, part I