arrives in the form of simple extension and compression
while the kelp forest sways idly in the underwater lull
you’re a six-foot swell on the horizon
air bubbles in the synovial fluid crackle under the surface of my spine
tugged by the pressure of a tidal energy // your arms a double overhead barrel
closed out by open palms curling in
:: i keel into unity with water anatomically, the energetic housing of chaos coiling head over heels, swirling throughout frothy endless vigor till i level steady an inspiration for air, a receiving ::
a burst of calm.
endorphins releasing in the happiest of exorcisms.
my freckles smile bright washed by the sun and saltwater
the shore ebbs // “you smell like the ocean,” you say in an exhale and ensue
the radius and ulna and humerus relaxing till the tide goes out
Never an oceanographer; most often a photographer.
Never a photographer; mostly an oceanographer.
But you lie; sometimes you are a photographer.
And sometimes photography is oceanography.
Our teeth like eyes reflect light when they show.
Do you always just jump in like this?
Well, do you always just snap the shutter open shut like this?
His eyes glowed green.
This is why people hold hands, isn’t it.
The blue blanket flipped and roared.
I sure hope so–
We ducked under the foaming sheets,
Looking out for the place the sun sleeps.
spills coffee (5 a.m.)
No coffee, no party!
But at least you can never spill the sea
It greets you
, never leaves you you’re the one who leaves it —
Either bathes you in the best colors
Or chews you to pieces and spits you out on the sand
he tries out alliteration; tried out surfing for the first time (12 years old)
Soaking with saltwater, I’m soaking with saltwater
Still tasting it on his lips even after peeling off the sealskin
cheese-pesto bagel with cream cheese (9 a.m. from brother Altair)
surprises you with his choice; an inside joke
Wait, are you having a Strawberry bagel?
I don’t discriminate
Even though they do have no soul
Deciding you will gather up yourself in blankets since the sea kissed you cold–
Artemis, you’re a really cool person
there declares Jupiter in the doorway (9:15 a.m. even though he knows you have a hard time taking compliments)
I hope you have a nice day today
later in the sunlight (11:10 a.m. barely casts your shadow on the dirt)
, spark-eyed Kairon single-handedly power massages the sore spot below your shoulder blade
Before resuming the walk to work
None of them know it’s the little things that help you cope
When the sand touches her bare paws —
No, when the brisk water sinks into her skin,
and the briny soak begins —
Now she begins again
that she is
Instead, she is Sea and Sky;
Gaia’s down blankets,
Strewn with Poseidon’s precious stones:
Green Fluorite at Dawn Apatite at Noon
Lapis Lazuli at Sunset Blue Tiger Eye at Dusk.
Here, she dwells in the
boundless vial of tears, submitting
every despair to the frames of
Nereid mustangs to bear; and through
the allotment of hours she steeps,
those sorrows weigh light, carried with ease
by the strong arms Of the Sea
“Welcome to the Land of Thunder,”
she says, and
“Welcome to the Teal Kaleidoscope,”
smiling like stars.
But if you lean close you’ll hear her whisper,
“Welcome to my diamond-flecked satin sheets–”
And if you lean closer you’ll hear her whisper,
“Are you ready to fall in love?”
–and watch her fly straight into the waves.
Last summer, I taught some private painting lessons for young adults. One of the skills I demonstrated was impasto, which is a technique that uses larger amounts of paint to create texture with its thickness. Van Gogh often used this technique.
These are a some acrylic experiment paintings I used to show examples of impasto to my students:
Geryon, inspired by Anne Carson’s story Autobiography of Red. Created with palette knife and brush.
Noontide. Memory landscape finger-painting.
Bunny Fantasia, created using a palette knife and brush.