On these long drives the trees
meet road-weary retinas that
turn them into rorschach blots
reflecting the thought parade
marching in circles in my skull
photo
Guess
“Guess” he said.
“You know I hate the guessing game.”
I always have.
Too practical to waste the time,
annoyed that the questioner knows
the answer they’re asking for
anyway
yet he grins and asks again
and I flare my nostrils
and he wins
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The bothers
The bothers are creatures who come on strong
having conspired with the shouldn’t-have-tos,
advised by the how-dare-theys,
ranks fortified with rancor
to ball up fists
and shout and rail
unwelcome but reliable visitors
brief but vile
snippy slitherers
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With
It had been years
since I risked a road less traveled
fraught with silence
and squirrely shadows
But the fears
melted off in the sun
walking into the desert with my mom
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Panorama
San Francisco is one of those places
fallen out of time, feeling like every era at once
iconic and perpetual
where anything and everything happens daily
like a movie set you’ve unwittingly stepped into
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Slick
The rain stops hinting
and takes it outside
to make good on its threats
and the slick streets shout out again
swinging light around like drunk fists
____________________________
Hey, look at that! I’m late posting polls again. What a surprise! You know us artist-types. Just so unreliable… 😉
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Yay!
After-rain clouds puff
bright white over blue
hills like smoke signals
shouting “yay!”
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Nap weather
Temperate breezes whistle
through smoldering scrap piles
tickling baby orchards
as they yawn and stretch
Marianne Bland's Art Blog 