No more words--

Tell me you love me while you're lookin' away!
Ha.

I finally swung by the bar to drop off a thank you gift for the artist who sketched me...a few weeks ago, now.
Feels like forever, but I guess it was just 2 weeks ago.
Hm.
Anyway.
I had just missed him, but the bartender took the little red gift bag with 3 packs of his brand of cigarettes, a sheaf of paper with words from this lil ole blog, and a bill, folded into a bow-tie...
I wish I could commission one of his bronze sculptures...of anything--it wouldn't matter.
The one I've seen is imprinted in my mind, the power of the lines, the grace of the shaping!
I'll have him draw the kids sometime, for my Mother's Day gift to myself, maybe.

And speaking of my growing art collection!
I won a silent auction on a piece from my favorite painter's gallery!
She is one of the dearest human beings on record, and has a soul as lovely as its shell.
Not to mention the way she makes a simple painting come alive--
when it slips along your optic nerve it leaves a trail of glitter
winding through the pathways of your heart and that indefinable place inside where giddiness is conceived,
the images she imagines slip inside you and dance like whole tribe of fertility gods for your own imagination.

Yeah.
And it'll be delivered from Phoenix next week.
I will be breathless til then.
I will tear pictures of my own dear chidren off the wall, because I already know where this gorgeous piece
MUST
hang.

Graffiti I left on the table
at the bar...
with a pencil:

Words--
used to come so fast I tripped over them.
Now they lie behind a rock wall,
dammed...
damned.
Writer's Block isn't even in my lexicon.
But it should be tattooed across my forehead,
or one letter on each knuckle--
a prison tat
for my liberated soul.

And now I'll go shower off the smokiness.
Cuz...
BLECH!
And I snuggle into that giant bed of mine,
and maybe...
I'll dare to dream of the time when I can dare to dream of the time...
when I'll be in love again.