separation anxiety

you make me use words that taste like vending machine pickles. words with calloused elbows in sweat shops fabricating rips in the knees of my bargain bin cargos.

words no one ever gets away with.

Coastal Boy

I want to judge a chili cook-off and give you a prize for being hot. I want to take to you the fair, ride the wheel up to the top. You're the smile I fall asleep to and the bod I dream about. Tell me how you'll kiss my body 'til I'm begging you to stop!

You're my only sunshine, make me happy when I'm blue. Hold me tight my only sunshine, don't let go 'til I say to.

I want to drive you to the country tie you up inside the barn. I want to take you for a ride on my tractor 'round the farm. You're the eyes I fall asleep to and the man I dream about. Tell me how you'll win me over with your looks and boyish charm.

You're my only sunshine, make me happy when I'm blue. Hold me tight my only sunshine, don't let go 'til I say to.

You can sail out near that island we can see from the bay. You can hold me close and kiss me 'til the boat starts to sway. I'll be the face you fall asleep to and the girl you dream about. Whisper sweet things in my ears while I look at you and say..

You're my only sunshine, make me happy when I'm blue. Hold me tight my only sunshine, don't let go 'til I say to.

Don't let go 'til I say to.

Hello Little Birds To Be.

It Rains for Me

I knew you were talking about the rain when you said it would be alright.

But I opened my eyes anyway and kept to the horizon.

Salt water and bullshit stung my face.

You said once the rain stopped the water would be smooth.

Like glass.

So my soul gave my conscience the thumbs up and went in search of calmer seas.

And found them.

It's agitating that she is fretting about not having butter for the biscuits when it's taking everything I have to not call and cancel the whole thing.

I expect I could blame it on the lack of butter, but he would know immediately it's because I am afraid.

That's dramatic. And presumptuous.

I would never use butter, or the lack there of, as an excuse for anything. And he wouldn't know - immediately.

But isn't butter an easier explanation for the past 30 years.

Wayfarers and Such - Exercise #2

Dark men in dark corners can be overheard whispering such things as "Passion should be stirred by simply buying fruit at the market." This is exactly why Woody Allen spends two weeks a year in Paris. One would assume life as a pair of Ray Ban Wayfarers would be all visions of gumdrops and celebrities, but if you're Mr. Allen's concaved black rimmed glasses, you may not have a stomach for all the passions of the romantic city. "Psst, Iris!" "Psst." Iris peers over the edge of the provincial vanity she’s sitting on to see Black Sock with a Hole in the Toe, mangy and old at best, on the floor trying desperately to get her attention. With an heir of annoyance, Iris snaps, "I don’t know what it is about this city that makes you a sentimental basket case, but if I have to hear one more time about how Brad Pitt almost bought you right off Mr. Woody’s feet on a dare, I’m going to scream." Black Sock with a Hole in the Toe said, "Mais non, haven’t you been listening to Woody talking about changing his image? He’s been desperate for so long to stir his personal pot, I would think you'd be slightly more concerned than you appear." "If I were to freak out every time Woody mentioned changing his image, I'd be in a 50% OFF loony bin." Iris' confidence was built on years of public recognition. She was almost as famous as the producer himself! Woody hadn’t been photographed in 30 years without her. She had mastered capturing the light and angles of his face to please the paparazzi. "I’ll admit your confidence brings a slight comfort, but I would stake my threads there was talk of big chang..." "Shhh!" Iris cut off Black Sock with a Hole in the Toe just as Mr. Allen emerged from the shower and picked up Iris and placed her on his nose. She wasn’t just a part of him, she was him.

The Original Artist

Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

As my focus shifts from one ambitious tree to the next their branches begin to emulate rivers. Each limb surges forward creating tributaries and creeks. Blossoms dance like campfire. Buds crackle and illuminate rosy shoulders. They are still and calm like sand banks to the eye, but chirp and flutter like a mighty current. Canaries in canoes sway against the breeze. Happy tubers grasp branches and avoid dark nooks. As my senses catch up to the warm sun against my cheeks I wonder at the similarities. God must have known how we would assimilate his creation. He knew the resemblances would be his artistic signature.

It's natural to follow artists we love. Even if we are not great art critics, we recognize the works of those we find appealing. We know their style because we like it and it speaks to our senses. We gravitate to their interpretations of reality.

Have you ever thought about how the first artistic interpretation was spoken from God's lips, THE original artist, into being? We are just a room in His museum. His work is below us, above us, and around us. It is clearly His. We would know it in any gallery in the universe. We would know it in any pawn shop, street stand, corner market, or art festival. God doesn't even have to sign his name and we know it's His.

But would we recognize an imposter? A fake?

The greatest artists are recognized by their style, special signature, and in some cases careful examination. There are many forgers out to recreate the works of great artists in order to deceive and manipulate, but the experts who have studied the artist, know the art and its authenticity. They know because they are familiar with every stroke, every dot of the eye, and every wrinkle in the canvas. When we pray and study God's word He reveals to us special evidence that helps us recognize His creation and will for it.

Hebrews 11:3 By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

Hebrews 13:8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

(New International Version, ©2011)