28x36" carbon abstraction

poem

 (untitled)

How can kissing this exquisite—as subtle as undulations across the surface of a raindrop somewhere on its way; so passionate, like pastels the colors of white hot fire in the fingers of an artist driven to capture lightning against the rose of dawn; so delicate—like the pink iridescent feathers of a hummingbird's breast, be out of reach, even though a conversation and a few hours of mid-night highway is all there is between; how can kissing— like the kissing yet shared, wait like this? 

quote alteration

 "We're all books: everyone sees the cover, few know the introduction and may believe the critics; fewer still know the content." E. Zola

Late note

 I used to substitute teach for SBUnified in the 00s, and have recently gone through LifeScan/updated vaccination/reissue of credential from CTC. As a poet and educator I strongly believe that teaching poetry is a sure way to wire the brain to imaginative thinking and reasoned thought in general. If there is time, or the teacher allows, I always ask if anyone wants to write a poem. Today three seventh graders at a local Junior High took me up on it; I said it didn’t have to rhyme, just two or three sentences on the topic: The Future. The following three poems, in no order, emerged; simultaneously sad and inspiring:

(1)

Ashy skies paint our eyes gray,

our leaders fanning a fire.

Sparks flicker, light, and burn.

(2)

Clouds burn red,

technology rebels in the street.

What have we done?

(3)

Don’t be afraid to discover something new,

each experience, a benefit to you.

poem

(untitled)

When it’s all a game

of how good you can be

when you don’t feel the strength to be,

to suffer the lesser

who crave celebrity

over ideas eternal

and everlasting;

to hold back the animal

and embrace the spirit;

to strain against the line,

to pull the fruit from the rind.

poem

 (untitled)

My aim is to make

your lips part in awe

for a moment in

sudden recognition

of a shimmering

glimpse of truth

hidden amongst

the noise and clutter

of the animal world;

deciphered by a spirit

whom you inspire;

found by a poet

who daydreams

to be next to

a muse like you.

 

poem

 Dappled

We all know of the dappled sunlight
on the ground through the leaves;
but what of dappled clouds?
Has anyone ever said it?
Dappled clouds are great
as dappled ground,
both a favorite love
of Sun loving Earth.

Aiming to make a photo like this even more beautiful with the completed novel

 

revised poem

(untitled)

Have you ever seen a twinkling in the eye?
Of course you have—of course you have;
might see one tomorrow,
or even in the next minute or so.

Then how could it ever be a question of spirit?
Then how could it ever be a question of your god?
Call them any name under the Sun,
there is such thing
as a twinkling in the eye.

Chap 1 at first look after awhile; edits needed; but looks good; excited to finish it

     I don’t know if you need to hear this, but if you do, please don’t hold it against me if I don’t tell it with humility. My teachers were vain. Back during their time it was a dishonor to the Sun, Earth, and Universe to fail to be as truthful and brilliant as possible at any moment. They used metaphor as a way of pulling history into focus. Looking at our blue paradise, as if from orbit, as if we were visitors from another galaxy. Seeing things that way, pretty soon you start to see human civilization as a type of comic book, where one event follows the next, and after contemplating it a decade or two, pretty soon the question emerges: what is the truth of our existence as a species of sapient beings? Is it just a bunch of haphazard events bumbling into the future, or the result of money and culture influencing things? Or is it all three? A bumbling along with helpings of haphazardness from both spheres? Is it the world’s banks and religions jousting for supremacy? A confluence at certain points? As a human I wanted to know. The rub is, the more you look into things, the more complicated things become—especially if you’re an artist and a scientist and your whole existence is a burning desire to identify the truth. I mean, how can you raise consciousness and advance humanity without knowing what’s true?

    Panning out from a few details to lots of details—from a river, to a forrest, to a continent, to a planet—is a great metaphor for life itself. The older you get, the larger the frame becomes. The larger the frame, the more you see. The more you see, the more you know. A writer once said that all nature is nothing but metaphor to the mind. Meaning you could take our universe and anything in it, and use it to explain something. For instance, you decide to meet for a reconciliation with a family member, or you have an upcoming salary review with your employer, and the possibility exists, that unless there is some persuading on your part, things might not unfold the way you think they should. So you set about finding reasons to point out one thing and mention another. A metaphor for that might be how you are going to play the meeting, like a match of chess or game of golf. How are you going to counter the brother-in-law’s bishop with a knight? What club are you going to use on the approach to the green? Another metaphor describing existence is of the burning house, like if you’re part of a society and the structure that keeps cold reality at bay—your home and government—is on fire and in danger of being utterly destroyed. Of course the most famous metaphor of all time goes back to the Greeks, the one about a bunch of people in a cave looking at shadows on the wall, believing that to be reality, and the other people outside the cave, looking at the Sun and Universe as it is. It captures the truth of humans restricted to thinking shadows on cave walls are all there is, and then those living in the world as it actually is, which raises that same question again: as a human being, do you want to know the truth or not? There’s the old adage that ignorance is bliss, and that most people would much rather live in a cave of their making than contemplate and consciously exist in the truth outside it.

    But if a story can help someone live a life where they make the transition from cave-dweller to non-cave-dweller, I’ll hold fast to the belief that it’s a good thing—as painful as it might be. I know the argument that some people just can’t handle the truth, but I reject that too. The capability of humans to lead other humans out of a cave and into sunlight—what the Greeks declared as the duty of artists and scientists—is proof and confirmation that the purpose of existence is to learn—and not learn just anything, but to learn the truth. Have you ever heard that before? That the purpose of your life is to learn the truth? Well it’s true. It’s why we’ve gotten this far. Our species would have perished long ago if not for the capability to enlighten our own kind.

    After a number of years of watching the world, I knew I had to write a novel because the argument had always been made that the novel is the most important art form when you’re talking about leading fellow humans out of a cave. One good novel, one story artfully told—the right words in the right order—walk someone right out of the cave. Lots of people have a book that changed their life. And so for years I read novels, noting what other artists had done, and what I might try myself. I had to see if I could get some complex political ideas stowed away in an entertaining story.

    Anyone says writing a novel is not the most difficult thing a human can do doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Meaning, a literary novel, a book that takes the past and the present, and combines it in a way that makes life relevant—that attempt to give meaning to us little monkeys who are sometimes warm, soft, and furry inside, and others as cold, cunning, and deadly as all the teeth and claws that have ever torn something apart. I was really struggling to finish my literary masterpiece, well aware that tens of millions of humans have attempted to write one, but never finished. I was losing steam, I needed inspiration, I needed a muse—someone beautiful and interested—maybe even doing something admirable with her life.

    Life without art is incomprehensible, like Earth without ocean. And art, the type that can alter consciousness, the type that can move an entire society in one direction or another, requires an artist who is inspired. That’s why the relationship between the muse and artist is so sacred, because it can have such a profound effect on what art comes into being, and how powerful, and where we go from here, etcetera, etcetera ecsera. When someone inspires someone else to excel, or inspires any intention, invention, or act that creates a more truthful and beautiful world, that must be sacred, right? Unless you’d rather be a robot. Then maybe the artist/muse relationship isn’t all that sacred. Maybe the metaphor these days is not whether you’re living in a cave, but whether you’re more robot than human. More likely they’re two metaphors describing the same truth. I don’t want people to be robots because robots can only do what they’re programmed to do. It’s the difference between being told what to feel, and actually feeling. I refuse to be a robot. And if I’m really sincere, then naturally I care if future humans are in danger of becoming robots.

    

meta

 Let's see, you're about to turn fifty-nine, entering into your sixtieth year; no way; yes it's true. Ok where are you? Oh yeah, had to file a writ in interests of the arts and that done can sleep knowing you tried--now what? Oh yeah, the novel; it's time to finish the novel; just a slim little book that says it all for everyone today and tomorrow. Unless I get hit by a bus it's coming Mr. Bezos and Mr. Musk and your followers, which is why I say you better hope I die.

poem

 (untitled)

When Hermes stole cattle from Apollo

was when someone one in millions

cut corners and lied

to champion us all.

Reply to recent editorial

     Sun Sentinel’s Editorial and Article V

    As co-founder of FOAVC and longtime advocate for Article V, the Sentinel’s editorial against a convention is understandable—just look at the legislator’s proposal language: “Be it further resolved [the resolution] is inherently risky since there are no rules for [a convention].” The editorial thus quite rightly concludes a federal convention without rules “has the potential to do anything.” Yet, hear me as someone knowledgable, because a convention is a body of people to discuss amendment language, then no rules are needed based on the rule of human nature; when delegates can simply and only build consensus about fundamental change, then it’s nothing more than what Americans have already been doing the past twenty years on Internet comment threads. Indeed, we’ve had informal discussion about amendments for generations before the Internet and if someone asked you your favorite amendment today—Campaign finance/electoral reform? No matter the idea, it must get approval from 7.5 out of 10 Americans because it must be ratified by 75% of the nation. All the Article V Convention (a proper noun) effects is change from informal discussion into formal discussion, and in a natural progression of events, national consensus.

    There is currently a resolution in the House Judiciary Committee (H.R 101 [117th Congress]), which if passed, would issue the convention call forthwith (immediately/without delay). Let’s imagine it passes and the call is issued. Michigan and Indiana have already instituted legislation, that if so, its state will elect or select its delegates (respectively); meaning other states will follow Michigan’s lead and elect delegates; but however delegates get to the convention—election or selection—and regardless of parliamentary procedure—the convention can only do one thing: debate amendment proposals; and the other three branches of government will intervene if anything other than that takes place. Thus, the ultimate rule of Article V—delegates can discuss ideas for change, but if they do anything other, one or all three branches of government will step in (even state governments have power to vacate a delegation if it goes rouge).

   Here’s another rule about a convention never mentioned: if we have one, it will adjourn. It will adjourn because at some point the majority of delegates will want to return home to family and friends. Once adjourned nothing will have changed about the Constitution, nothing will have been re-written or added unto. Then the Congress must assign a mode of ratification to proposals—by state legislature or state convention—which will probably take weeks. So the notion that a convention is where anything can happen, or we might damage the Constitution, is utterly bogus: and when you think about it, a federal convention is where the people can’t lose in a process of building national consensus; the only Americans who lose in that process are those connected to the status quo. Why? Because the Framers who hammered out the 1787 Federal Constitution didn’t trust each other (slave-owners and abolitionists in the same building), and they all knew what history had taught for centuries, and what we know today—governments become corrupt. In other words, the Article V Convention is a peaceable reformation of the current status quo, and the genius of our highest law is common sense. When things get too confusing, you call a time-out to formally discuss the current approach to existence—you know, like responsible adults. That’s all a convention under Article V is folks, a time-out to formally discuss.

   Be careful what you wish for? Lots of Americans are wishing government somehow ends the practice of billion dollar election campaigns for public servants, wishing for a convention means you think it’s time for a formal discussion about what ideas could possibly get 7.5 of 10 Americans to say Yes. If only for the entertainment value?

    For feminists reading, a convention is surest way to protections in view of recent trends in Supreme Court rulings. Amendments solve injustice decisively, no one today questions a woman’s right to vote, no one tomorrow will question a woman’s right to choose.

    “[The Article V Convention is] just one more political sideshow to divert attention from major challenges in education, health care and the environment,” the Sentinel’s editorial states. The reply in metaphor is that when a main breaks, you don’t figure out a better mop, you fix the main. That is obviously what we need to do today, and wherever you are on the political spectrum, definitely there are things 75% of us can agree on today (campaign/finance/electoral reform?).

    “Thirty-four of the 50 states must call for a convention to be held,” the editorial states, but FOAVC shows hundreds of applications on record, and that the states have legally satisfied the convention clause of Article V many times over. If you’re for the Constitution but against a convention, then you’re actually not for the Constitution.

24x36" commissioned work/ carbon and acrylic

 

poem

 (untitled)

They sit facing forward,

ready to confront whatever life throws;

a sword in the right hand—

sign of the rational mind,

pointing left and intuitive;

decisiveness yet flexibility

in all matters; decisions based

on calculated thoughts,

though still open to heart.

Wearing the tunic of desire

for knowing focused on spirit,

and a cape of compassion—

the throne decorated with butterflies

and crescent moons, an angel

just near the ear,

giving guidance;

the background trees still

as the clouds settle with

the wind dying down,

giving way to clarity

over the confusion

of sweeping change.

poem

(untitled)

When adults have been rendered into children who only want to watch cartoons and eat candy; that's when you know things have gone too far, that's when you know it won't remain the same for much longer.

poem

 (untitled)

Remember when

you saw them walking

in their sleep,

talking like

something else

was happening,

and how

you realized

it's all just

a matter

of popping bubble

after bubble

to the bigger one.

27x40" oil pastel on paper