Saturday, June 30, 2012

name that hue

I've always wondered about the people 
who think up all those names for colors.
You know, like the names on paint chips
or nail polish
or pastels.
Are they poets or painters?
Cat people or dog people?
What do they wear?
Are their living rooms beige?
Do they do drugs?
What do they eat? 
I think about them and their stories a lot.
As I look down at my toes, my mind wanders.
I mean, seriously...
just imagine the person who named this polish,

"Melon of Troy".

Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Just when you think
there's no end in sight,
the ending of the fire without end
finally appears.

Which I suppose is
the next beginning.

Friday, June 22, 2012

hot cold push pull

Am I holding things up
or being hauled up?

Now that I think of it,
this is a better illustration of me
trying to be cool in this insane heat.

Sunday, June 17, 2012


It's 95 degrees,
a dry wind is blowing 50 mph,
and the High Park fire continues to rage 
20 miles north of the ranch.

I'm still painting canvases,
 but I'm too distracted to finish one.

It's easier to knock out these little paintings
using the DrawCast app on my phone.

While flowers are feverish here,

I dream of the cool trees in Maine.

Apptitude is everything.

Thursday, June 7, 2012


Though of unknown origin, whim is obviously a fairy word.

One dark and rainy afternoon, we decided
 on a whim
  to go for a walk around the island.
We hadn't been back since the Patriot's Day storm
 had destroyed much of it five years before.

Here is what we found...

Following the yellow

brick road

to the path around the island,

I looked into what the storm had left of the forest.

At first, it looked like a Boy Scout bivouac.

But wait... what does that little sign over there say?


Then I began to notice little piles of
this and that here and there;
 building materials.

Looking through literally acres of trees,
I could see signs of construction everywhere.

And I mean everywhere.
No matter how nondescript, closer inspection revealed
that under almost every rock and stick and foot,
 some tiny person dwelled.

Beneath a roof carefully tiled with oak leaves,
pine branch rafters spanned
a dining table made of shale.

A peek under a curl of birch bark
across a patio made of mussel shells
exposed sophisticated architecture.

Like wee hippies,
some preferred to live au natural,
in a little treehouse.

This next one cracked me up.
Apparently, some fairies live in trailers,
watch TV,
and probably microwave their TV dinners.

It always paid to scooch down to peer inside.


There were thousands of abodes
scattered throughout the forest.
Some were big

Some were tiny

Some had front doors

and back doors

Though privacy is to be respected,

I couldn't resist looking through the windows.

Some were charming.

Others were obviously charmed.

Offerings had been left at several.

I'll spare you the hundreds more pictures.
If these few aren't enough magic,
here's one more special sight.
We suddenly saw a tree
so unusual and powerful,

it had rightly been adorned
from top to bottom.

It's a whole story unto itself.

A story for another day.

Sunday, June 3, 2012


I've been diggity-dogging in the garden.
Thirsty work.

Sorting through some of
 my Pollock app paintings helps.


You may have seen some of these before,
But hey, I really needed a drink.

Friday, June 1, 2012

tropical hotdog night

In 1978, Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band
released the album "Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)",
which included the tune, 
"It's a Tropical Hotdog Night".
The song became vernaculus familia.  
At least in my familia.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is what one looks like.