I’m thinking of the rocks, the geology the archaeology the transmission the glory of all the rocks below me, rocks surrounding our giant earth rock and less than that the sand that filters through your mindscapes that trickles over your feet into the vastest vastness of beach and universe and all that is.
There is still the roar of the waterfall, the sun setting while I gaze, (up to 8 ½ minutes) the broken mankle.
Yesterday I painted and worked on a large canvas, and parts of me trying to stay not too sloppy, no resting leg parts of me or wheelchair parts of the general me get into any wet paint, calling Noah over to help me reset m angle and turn the painting upsiode down so as I could work on the top, which actually became the bottom then. Drips. Nmuted colors. Light. And the poem, it is a paonting of poem for an upcoming show, a poem about clouds within a womb, and also it mates with another poem by the same poet about crossing. So many of my paintings are about crossing. Ahhhh, very exciting that I have found a way to work large again. Today my arms ache, they have been well exercised!