i have forgotten how to blog
do this thing
i used to

no more time
no more need maybe
real life trumps virtual
in all forms

in my craft house
first time in 4 ever
here i would hibernate
sun on all sides

in the winter
i have tense conversations with all
about the darkness
lights r brought in

my studio – playground – garden
organized chaos
a rich persons insanity
written on the walls

adele is blasting on my computer
loud as apple will allow
it is never loud enough 4 me
she n james = it

mothers spirit
travels through her
the one she loved above all others
this – she said – is art

the whole woman
perfectly real authentic beauty
political passionate

the one by whom all others r measured
real or imagined
dead or alive

my mother had nick knack shelves
type setters trays
she bought tiny things
for the empty spaces