Thanks to Stephen and Arleen who said the first time they met me: She'd look good in feathers. Not sure what they meant, but I know I've always underdressed. I should have my dtr/law Nicole dress me. Here's her kid, my first grandaughter. These nice folks will stop in Sunday to see their poor Bubby:
Next-door neighbor's Halloween deco's. My light will be off as I will be writhing in pain as I am now - pity me pity me I need attention - at Scott's house. He's sleeping now beside me catching up on his sleepless nites at SEPTA.So my young art teacher Chris Hall calls me. I'd left a message about not coming to class. He thought maybe my bipolar had returned but I told him no, that I had painful sciatica. He's too young and innocent to know about things like this.
He knows I love Matisse and said he found another artist I'll like. I told him I'd photograph some old chalk pastels I did on my website, just for him. I really like this guy. At first, I thought my drawings were done by Sarah or Dan, but then I remembered doing two of them.
Here they are, courtesy of my Canon:
This I really believe is daughter Sarah's. Too good to be mine.
These drawings were therapeutic ones I drew when suffering from bipolar. At times my anxiety was very high so I would draw to see where it was coming from. I drew this very scary bee w/stingers, Ya know what? It represented my family members who for a while were quite toxic to me. Luckily, I don't have an 88-yo borderline mom! Dyou?
This seems to be a place of tranquility. I'd like to go there now. Would you go w/me?
This is my best one but dammit it's blurry! I'll have to reshoot. This is the only one I remember doing. I was on my lithium then & had no memory. We won't recount what it was doing to my kidneys, thank you very much Dr Larry Schwartz.
Twas nice to go upstairs to my Study. I forgot I lived in a big house on the upward slope of Cowbell - still gotta load that poem, gang! - know you're waiting, thank you Roberto for being my friend, I so appreciate it, gee, I shoulda sent you a postcard today, I was doling em out like I was gonna wake up dead tomro like poor Mr Martino. Pls write the details. I'm a glutton for death and decay.
A HOUSE ON THE UPWARD SLOPE OF COWBELL ROAD
What? No more green pastures
Where have all the cowboys gone
or the farmgirls with thick legs
striding to the barn
breasts bouncing.
You were here once
I sense your presence
for I am that girl
that farmgirl
sent to replace you.
The proof?
My yellow house,
this sacred ground
that’s been my heaven
been my hell,
more of a heaven
since I choose to be
a woman alone.
Never has a man pleased me much.
The first time we met
- remember? –
I walked in
and felt
kissed by the sun.
Was this really
a modest abode
for Apollo before
mounting his
chariot?
I suppose.
Don’t read
the minds of
gods.
Their answers
will surprise you
and leave you
gasping.
O light
we kept one another
company
read our books together
brushed up on
useless knowledge
watched the deer saunter
in like starved dogs
to the backyard
to nibble casually
on my phlox and tomato plants
Then the archers
would slay them
one by one
in unseen forests
with well pointed arrows.
The deer have lost their homes.
My yellow house
finds me impeccable
infallible as the Pope
or Queen of England
listens with barely a moan
to my problems
watches me dance
in the empty rooms
as Apollo comes
home at night
dog tired
from his
endless drive.
Speechless,
he sinks
all color gone
in the loveseat
until morning comes.
Burn on,
O sun,
for you will outshine me
a mere mortal.
Remember me, if you will,
as one of
your darlings:
a minor
goddess
who glowed golden
only for you.
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