Out in the woods

In a yoga class led by my older sister, I tried to show off and instead tore my hip labrum! Oops.. To heal, I returned to my childhood home in the swamplands of Massachusetts where my sweet, sweet parents cared for their limping fawn (me). Unable to walk for several months, combined with the isolation of the woods, I was forced to confront my fear of stillness.

In stillness, there is room for imperfection; it's impossible to ignore conflicting feelings and mental pain. These paintings reflect my attempt at finding balance between contrasting parts of my self, turning scar tissue into something more flexible.

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The wave

I can't change the world and that hurts like a belly full of fat -- full of that time and that other time that it all made sense, when leaves fell up the trees and rabbits spoke so sweet to me. Remember? I keep saying that dreams are here to keep I keep saying I'll stretch before I sleep and then maybe I'll change the world like that thing about rain drops and oceans is also painfully true -- dreams can be kept in a journal and people can listen when spoken to

Mama bird

I love my mama like the thickest slab of buttercream

coats teeth and sweetens sips of coffee

cavities of wanting her kiss on my sweet.

When Mama's not around I place a palm

on my cheek, like the warm of her lip-

sticks to me eternally. I can swim through this

river like flying in Spring.

Sitting duck

I'm out for my liver here

where bodies work out of order

and now is the time to heal

so peel a banana for potassium

leaves for iron

and make way for a new day

Left right brain

Left brain for cool

Right brain for heat

Heart in the middle

like warm between hands holding

Classic water

Grandma paints swans in rivers

and granddaughters in oceans

and sons in forests and trees

and trees and trees and I can't

help but notice how water

color kisses itself wholey by the edges meshing

Toxic

That same color -- green --

she means so many things

Crossover

On a walk through Washington square

a chess man called me over

to tell me to go to Japan

"crossover" he said

and took the white queen from side to side

never touching the board "crossover" he said,

go to Japan and come back

find me here and tell me what I mean

Witches

It’s not often I take what I need, more often I feed on my own youth and give my scraps to the softest hands The ones with pointed nails and eyes so wide a home could fit inside But it doesn’t

Feeling

When I was twelve we learned in school about suicide

And I decided I wanted to die

Probably

Why not?

You see I never learned how to stop a thought

Only ever how to shut to win

and to be true I'd rather lose

so you can feel the worth I don't

Piñata

Let’s play a game Shall we? Hang success from a tree Beat it with a stick till all her parts fall Out and Some will play with hands tied Some will play with covered eyes Some will play behind the line And bones will break from stepping And iron toed boots are allowed to Those who can afford them and When she’s taken To completion we may rest In her dissection Wash with water and to sleep And sleep And sleep

Murder in the morning

This flee got stuck in my brush

This morning and I kept painting

as his wings kept coating in oil

Little legs flailing I stopped

to inspect my dying friend

Removed flee from bristles to pointer finger

and squashed the little life

ending the wordless fear

of insectual death

and kept painting

with some guts by my cuticle