lately i have been thinking about how much i miss creating performance art. most of my creative time has been spent making jewelry. while satisfying and money making (both very important to me as a self-employed artist), there is just something about being hunched over a dusty dirty bench that can never compare to a huge open studio space and bodies moving together.
this pic may have to be my inspirational jumping off place…
I drew stillness
From The Deck.
Her avatar?
A peace sign.
Right now,
I think my
Avatar is
A race car.
Zipping ahead
Without thought
For the energy
Being consumed
Or the loudness
Generated.
And all this
Speed and combustion
And noise
Is doing so little to
Improve on what
Was already
Here.
What inner warmth
Do they rely on to carry
Them through the snow?
(Have they studied with the
Right gurus? Climbed the right
Mountain? Eaten the right foods?
Done the right workout?
Gone to their therapist or been
Advised by the best coach?
Pursued the latest self-help craze?
Well … no. Those are human traits
That I cannot place on my deciduous neighbors.)
In a sudden enlightenment,
The sun bursts forth from clouds
And brightens the grey sky to
Blue. The grey bark and twigs
Are still grey.
A shaft of sunbeam awakens me at dawn.
My slumber has been of one dead for a thousand years:
Deadened by thoughts of culpability and then,
Sudden innocence.
Awe and wonder overtake the moment
As the light settles in.
But fear raises expectations of loss and
Grandeur — neither of which hold a place
In this reality, nor a grasp on the epiphany.
(This is the light of choice.
This is the light of choice.
This is the light of choice.)
Opening the shades fully,
I take in the miraculous, blue of
A cloudless
Father sky.
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