Sketchbook Project 2014

It's that time of year again, The Sketchbook Project deadline has come and gone and I have parted with yet another sketchbook after hours of planning and hours of making...this year I melded my painting process with one of my poems...it's a bright yellow mini-tome, a bittersweet creation...yet, 
I had so much fun doing it! I really needed this burst of creativity during these cold months...

I dedicated this one for my one dog named Max...what can I say? I miss him...

I am vexed. It is all commonplace at first glance—

as it should be—

The sky is blue—

or gray, depending on the weather—

there is snow

now—grass will come later—

the bare bones of trees have

buds waiting to burst, but when I take a careful look

around—all is as it should be on the surface—but

I know better than that.

 There are other things beyond me—

outside of my realm—

out of my sphere of influence—

out of control.

I could wake up screaming some times,

but I don’t.

Screaming solves nothing.

 What will be—

will be. Indeed.

Where do I dare to look?

No blood.

There or there. No—wait—

wait for it—maybe?

Ah, no, I’m wrong.

It’s a photograph of trauma—

the latest life drama

right there on the front page—

right there on the television

and there on the latest gadget screen.

Where to look first?

 

Don’t blink.

Don’t look away.

 Dang, it’s another train wreck of yet

another individual

blowing their wad—

their existence—

constituted misery—

making a mess for others to clean up. 

So much loss happened long

before the aftermath.

Someone dropped the ball

between here and there.

Shit, they didn’t look both ways.

Don’t you know by now?

 Stop – Look—Listen

for the two sides of the story.

Don’t you see? Can’t you see?

Amend—make amends—

amendments—

Adjust yourself—

ourselves—

in keeping with the situation.

 Running around putting out fires,

it’s all gone before you know it—

before you knew you had it.

Don’t blink

or you’ll miss it.

Just a moment—

a moment of being.

Be.

I wonder ‘how come’.

What the fuck, right?

Seriously.

Some days I feel like I’m running a

marathon while standing still.

Beleaguered.

Belabored.

Be.

Been.

The cold Winter wind that lingers on

the Spring equinox breath

is disheartening. My feet are chilled, but

I’ll get over it—it

being such a small thing.

There are worse things than cold feet.

Some are sure it’s just a phase we’re in—

adjusting.

The world is appalling to me—

these days

 

I am vexed

by it all. Tired. Dead dog tired

of the latest ‘it’ thing.

It is—it was—it will be—

It and the many things ‘it’ is—

or possibly

can be.

My head can just about pop off

my body from thinking—

listening to it all. Whose side are you on—

you chose.

Right or left—

wrong or right.

My country ‘tis of thee—

What happened to my sweet land of liberty?

Of thee I—

Of thee... See?

I can’t even sing the words—

my vexation runs deep.

 So I chose to laugh at the way things are—

shake my head

in wonder of it all. Disbelief—

how come—how now,

dear old brown cow.

I hope to be safe

here on my acre of the world—

my home sweet home—

 the one place I can call my own—

there are no guarantees of that either—

no matter what I do—

staying out of it while being in the middle of it all.

No wonder I’m so vexed.

I thought it would be interesting to add the definition of Vex, Vexed, and Vexation...

The Brooklyn Art Library informed me that they rec'd my little sketchbook, and will be scanning it for their digital library and eventually this little treasure will be traveling in the Northeast Tour for 2014...it's such a neat little project to do once a year...I'm already looking forward to next year's project!