New Work

I just dropped these pieces off at Gallery 360 today. 

1. The movement of cells bound to light

2. The beginning of light felt like amber

3. Perched on the edge of bloom, color was not separate from sound

4. Such light inside her. It spilled out of her mouth, cutting her words in half

5. The land is a clock and time is the sea and light flows from everything in long angles

6. Waters stretch across the room of my chest

Of course, prints of the new work are available for purchase in the shop.

Little pieces of my studio

1. My sister recently moved back to Portland. I miss her. The pin was found by her and that social capital dollar bill was made during her work on the Minneapolis Reclamation Project last summer. I love you Sarah Frances!

2. I'm sprouting mungzuki bean seeds!

Here it is winter...

... and it's hard to remember that there is water moving in other places of the world. These photos are from another time and place and season.

I woke up early last week. Night was still hanging onto everything and I wrote this:

I move apart -
joints floating away from their sockets,
skin draped with flails of muscle rippling,
blood has to move a mile from my hands to my heart,
cells orbit slowly around bones.
My dreams are fire far off in the distance
and wolves who pull animal noises from my throat.
Even the moon follows me here,
its path a twisted helix along the horizon.
My stomach turns over.
The body knows.