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MY SON

DEAR SON

YOUR SON DEAR SON

MY SON

OUR SON

THEIR SONS

DEAR BOY

YOUR SON

DEAR BOY

OUR SONS

DEAR SONS

YOUR SON

THEIR SON

THEIR LIVES

YOUR SON

MY SON 

HIS LIFE
DEAR BOY

OUR BOYS

THEIR LIVES

MY SON, YOUR SON, OUR SONS
THEIR LOST LIvES

for the boys no longer ours.

The Final Bow

 
The Final Bow

April 23, 2016 by le artiste boots | Edit

The Last Bow

Floor, please?
Going up.
Hello God
Its the Artist
Formerly Prince.

Nashville Now and Then
The oozing mud 
Sheen 

Relieved  of its burden

Breathing parched air

Cracking its first smile

This century..

Bulldozers press down

Ignoring what lies beneath ,

Perhaps a spoon 

Or hand of doll,

A musket ball

Lodged in a skull

Long lost, forgotten

Not archived

As native

Soldier, child.

Time is short
The lemmings swarm

Upon beaches

Of mud

The migration has begun.
Nashville Then
Twenty-year olds

Will think forty year ago

Is ancient history

But like yesterday

Arriving in the heat

Of Fall

It took a year or two

For the artist’s eye

To see the beauty

Of budding life

On trees

Before green tangled all

Even the palette

Of Bird on roadways

Was rich history.

An empty house of tires

Or a new ‘lake’ after rain

Reduced to mud

In the sun

Subjects disappearing.

Only remain

As watercolor and oil.
Not only are traces

Of history

Erased

Our comfort

And ease

Replaced by fear

How long will we

Be remembered here?

 A Poem About Eyes

I want to write

About eyes.

What lies before them

What wakes behind

Spiked guards

Hidden, cunning

Shielded from light.
Instead I sip

From your briny pools

Put my lips in your lake,

Still pure,

Draw breath 

And the river floods

It’s ocean of metal.
I drink to your Caesar

Who never knew 

his enemy 

From a friend

Nor a truth 

From lies.

Being You

    You can’t Look up

    While looking

    Down.
    Up is hope

    Light, blue

    Warming too.
    Down is down

    Deep, like glue

    It holds and 

    Folds

    Until you don’t

    Know who.
    But in between

    Whether day

    Or night

    Look up 

    And down

    And East

    And West

    Stand tall

    And bend to test

    Are you you?

    Neither up or down

    Is best. You can’t
    Look up
    While looking
    Down.

    Up is hope
    Light, blue
    Warming too.

    Down is down
    Deep, like glue
    It holds and
    Folds
    Until you don’t
    Know who.

    But in between
    Whether day
    Or night
    Look up
    And down
    And East
    And West
    Stand tall
    And bend to test
    Are you you?
    Neither up or down
    Is best.You can’t
    Look up
    While looking
    Down.

    Up is hope
    Light, blue
    Warming too.

    Down is down
    Deep, like glue
    It holds and
    Folds
    Until you don’t
    Know who.

    But in between
    Whether day
    Or night
    Look up
    And down
    And East
    And West
    Stand tall
    And bend to test
    Are you you?
    Neither up or down
    Is best.

    Counting, a poem

    Counting

    1

    Living, outliving

    Statistical

    Miracle

    2

    Preached by

    Dr. Benjamin Mays

    “It does not particular’ matter…”

    It matters to me

    Now

    When that magnet

    In the sky

    Settles on me.

    Or misses like the drone

    Dropped near the skier

    I follow the news

    While making it

    NYTimes

    Have plenty of ink

    Roll presses?

    Not yet I think

    Just get ready

    I tell myself

    I want to know

    If we can go

    14 light years away

    To another world

    On a new day

    3

    Not enough sand in an hourglass

    Not enough sea glass on the beach

    Not enough hands on the clock

    Not enough joy

    In the world

    4

    Under

    What’s under

    The sea?

    Below the surface

    Roots

    And history

    5

    It’s all here

    Going round and round

    Spinning and mixing the people

    Blending new

    Some with, without shoes

    Clay on a wheel

    Build or collapse

    Make new

    Be bold

    That is the goal

    Moment

    Momentous

    Moment-us
    Moment just for us

    The days
    Are pleasing

    Rushing like 

       a Waterfall

    My favorite

    Is still Fall.

       Drawn on Paper app

    Captured design UZU  

        Encaustic. Private collection