Chinese Shadow Painting in the Desert


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Something about the layers of shadow drew me to our wall the other afternoon…the light was bouncing around from so many directions that it looks almost like a Chinese ink painting. I love this shot.


The Howling Wind

Could not find artist for this lovely image

Knock, knock, knock on the windowpane

Insistent fingers, tapping and clawing shhhhhh don’t wake the baby

The oak beside the window creaks, moans and the moon

Peers down haughtily from behind veils of sand

Tendrils of dust below the doorjamb you can’t see me

Voices babbling among the trees, crying, clamorous

Sermonizing in some unknown and angry tongue

Dark is deepening, shadows creeping you’re not alone

Thoughts’ edges fray, scatter night-howling away

Fingers becoming wrathful fists, raining pounding fists

You can’t stop me, you can’t breathe, I’m not leaving.

Not this summer

The Equatorial Jungle- Rousseau 1909

One Summer Before this One
There were monkeys in the trees outside my window, in the mornings
After nights of bugs bouncing off the fan and sleeping in my mouth
No doors nor screens, but brilliant mangoes for breakfast
The blonde man-girl sang old Tina Turner songs under a blue moon
And tiny red-purple crabs gathered in droves at the edges of the shadows.
They wanted to taste my toes, feed on meaty bones.
Las Brisas smelled like yeast, like sea and grease
He took me there, on a bicycle built for one, just once
Laughing with his friends, watching me out of almond corners
Click, click, click said the crabs, and their myriad eyes shone with tears.


She shakes herself like a dog

Licking wounds with tongues of winds, fires, floods

Time to wake from this long nap and rid yourself of the fleas.

The seas revolt, finned armies planning death by stingray, lunch by shark

Rumblings beneath her skin, sighs above and tremors within.

She grows hot, then cold, and we begin to die.