Not The Rockefellers

one day you will find me again far from this time and its treasured things 2015-Rene

and now
 i was a part of it,
 alright
 my custom fit cradle indented formidably into
 earth from sky a few looked down (three to be exact) with
 a blend of love,hate
  and who gives 
a damn upon
 a pillar
 yet i was theirs creation’s foundling  2015-Rene

Painting by Daria Petrilli via Magpie Tales  i dig in my heels  feel the pull  of water over sand the tug  of matter over  mine and the days  go by will i never get better at letting go 2015-Rene

having you beside me carves a river through my catastrophe  Rene-2015 Image:   Old Bank Street, Manchester, UK by R.A.D. Stainforth ( via Magpie Tales )

photo by: Steven Kelly             what i  am to you is just a passing fancy a quick thrill before the next leg Rene ~ 2013

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M. C. Escher via Magpie Tales from across the table the world your words meet my eyes and stir my soul how easily they reach across latitudes and oceans across mountains and time across cities and down herd paths how urgently they wind up the streets of my heart and marrow unlocking doors and lighting fires from across the table the world your words expose the infallible gods of lost hope as astronomical frauds Rene ~ 2013 For Him and Her

Image via Magpie Tales Alma she, the practical godmother  of re purposed filled lives did so, not out of fad or fashion or deep cosmic guilt but rather frugality borne out of horse drawn necessity with Alma one was never allowed to simply "be" a spoon could not just stir a kettle had to do more than just boil one trick extravagances had no business in her business for Alma "just doing your bit" was an unforgivable sin and a grotesque waste of limitless talent she eschewed the flock trotted superhighway and blazed her own way in inventive fashion the future sewn and soldered  formed from  whatever she had on hand waiting to be reborn and twisted  drifting from the past Rene ~ July 2013

image: Andrew Wyeth ( via Magpie Tales) before we became slayers of giants  conquerors  of brave, new worlds we were frozen trapped,  inside blocks  of Carrara  wanting willing to risk everything for a chance the right to be higher,  mightier, divine free Rene~July 2013

Supermoon, New York, Julio Cortez via Magpie Tales I look at that moon like it's another quarter slipped in  the smiling notch of  my bank book i can hardly lift  all that hope i make gravy wells in clouds for all my crazy dreams but my champagne heart has beggar's  arrhythmia and i stubbed my toe  on a horny back toad how them golden slippers ever gonna fit me, now  go an' howl down a mongrel rainstorm up that yellow brick road  Rene ~ July 2013 For Magpie Tales

Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension? 1979 by Morris Graves via Magpie Tales dawn is a feeling warmth that spreads from shoulder to cheek freedom means boundaries landmarks of habit indicators of progress  voices are familiar songs  each new generation produces its convincing covers life is smelly but you'll always know you are home Rene ~ June 2, 2013 For Randy Pierce and The Mighty Quinn

"Ponytail" by Last Exit up from the soles a restless silken quake this life this absolute death a serenade unapologetic Rene ~ May 26, 2013 For Magpie Tales

one last broken word one first bite of skin let heaven and free will ring emancipation thunderclap mistress thirst obscene lips parted full dripping sunset nectar the moon is gold my eyes are green the world is radiant jasper the ceiling endless aquamarine i have bled into the river weeping it knows my name Evangeline Rene ~ May 5, 2013 For Magpie Tales Young Woman Picking the Fruit of Knowledge, 1892 by Mary Cassatt

Image: Helen Ward via Magpie Tales It's always a sight at the trattorie when wild city critters make a scene crumbled cake, candelabras chaos and weasels in starched collars paper crowns, rumpled nightgowns won't someone turn that racket down? reptilian wait staff spin and slither a tortoise brings breakfast in time for dinner but there... in the midst of all the clatter a honey badger pot scrubber for whom the noise doesn't matter he keeps to himself, he doesn't care doesn't give a whit about the whole affair he sticks to his task, gets it done then leaves the city moon for the country sun Rene ~ April 28, 2013

she was beauty ripe golden, delicious in a place where life has teeth and apples are hard to come by she was the siren in the salty song of the lobsterman and sunrise on the tip of an artist's brush she was a slice of time come of age here, on Monhegan until, without signal she was gone painted into myth like the hermit of Manana Rene ~ April 21,2013 For Magpie Tales "Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look to another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this." - Henry David Thoreau Image: Monhegan's Schoolteacher, Jamie Wyeth, 2004