On My Nightstand, on My Easel (19)

On my nightstand

Inside his head, 
questions 
like race cars 
shuddered in a row, 
waiting to roar off. 
Suddenly 
he let the first one go.

Ouida Sebestyen, I.O.U.'s


On my easel

work in progress, 85 days in (after a long break), 7/12/20
detail
playing with questions
24 x 48" canvas

Streetable #10

You know how good-byes feel. 
How the air gets excited 
when all its ions 
and electrical charges 
are disrupted, 
first by the intent to leave 
and after by the leaving itself. 
Then, when the bodies move 
away through space, 
they create empty pockets 
where feelings get caught 
and eddy around in the vacuum, 
creating little vortices 
of relief 
or sadness 
or confusion. 
That’s the way it felt 
on the day the Seeds left town.

Ruth Ozeki, All Over Creation

Perhaps If She Acts as Though Things Are Normal
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic and ink
abstract
2020

before primping

Streetable #9

The sea has always
whispered to me,
all down my life
it's been there.
And with that endless
restlessness
come other sounds—
seagulls shrieking
and mast wires clinking
as boats shift;
pebbles turning
and waves 
tapping sea-worn rocks.

Jules Hardy, Altered Land

Gurry and Sea-Worn Rocks, Ebb Tide
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic, water-soluble pastel, ink, and collage
abstract
2020

unaltered land

Streetable #8

It used to comfort me, 
as a little girl, 
to look at my mother’s jewelry. 
I used to try on 
the heavy gold bracelets, 
the pearl necklaces, 
the rings, 
all at once. 
I liked pinning the brooches 
in a line down my chest, 
the fabric of my shirt 
sagging from the weight.

Elizabeth Berg, Open House

"All You Need Now, Edith, is Lipstick," Little Bear Said
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic, ink, fabric paint, and collage
abstract
2020

before Edith and Little Bear discovered
the beautiful dressing room with the big mirror

Streetable #7

Every single damn thing 
that we are 
or ever will be 
is dependent on six inches of topsoil 
and the fact that the rain comes 
when it’s needed 
and does not come 
when it is not needed, 
everything, 
every … 
single … 
thing 
comes with that luck.

Gary Paulsen, Clabbered Dirt, Sweet Grass

The Comfort of a Tree's Spiny Bark
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic, pencil, and collage
abstract
2020

neither wearing makeup nor wishing to appear to be

Streetable #6

How have you been? he asks,

after a swallow of coffee,

which always smells so good

but when you taste it

you get a bitter surprise.

And you always

want to taste it again

because how could your nose

be so wrong?

but it is.

Elizabeth Berg, Joy School

After the Percolator Finishes Gurgling and Spitting
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic, pencil, and collage
abstract
2020

before any morning joe

Streetable #5

When I was in third grade, 
I told my fellow students 
that the woman who invented math 
had been killed in a fire. 
It was a good thing, I said, 
because she was putting 
the finishing touches 
on something even worse than math, 
something the schools 
were aching to get their hands on.

Michael Cadnum, Edge

Sharing Things You Found Out Only a Short Time Ago Yourself
4 x 6" postcard; acrylic and collage
abstract
2020

basic idea