In a letter to a friend recently I signed off with an intuitive, spontaneously-crafted phrase, “riding the coyote.” How else could I describe this immense unknown I feel I am confronting with an awareness and capacity to hold two truths…
Comments closedmoon surf hag shack Posts
I am focusing my sentient salience on the greatest sandwich Saturn string-beans: a planet made of satin. I rotate around my gut, ping-ponging between possibilities which arrange themselves repetitiously I forge onward, waiting for the flash of light that will…
Leave a CommentBeginning of March through the beginning of April I was working on a series of dolphin watercolors that I planned to compile into a zine called “The Zine of Joy.” Recently I’ve been inspired by Lisa Frank-esque colors and bold…
Leave a CommentWinnebago forest in Joshua Tree country… A sweat lodge for the spirit, special desert plants and special gentle animals with protective powers, like violet totems, vibrating under a naked night’s sky where all of heaven is exposed and glowing… Polaroid…
Leave a CommentNeptunian Rivellettes blue green sheen when I close my eyes I see red glowing from the sun the sunlight through my eyelids _______________________ Clown Casual Style: multicolored blue dream baby bopping through a light blue station wagon migration the mobile…
Leave a CommentMWR and I created our annual movie. Here’s his written teaser: The journey begins in the buff and ends in the ocean and there are many gentle water features and lush micro bio-regions between there and yonder. Magic is afoot.…
Leave a Comment@thursdaymagic and I pulled these cards at Fly Awake together. This is a reading for the all of us, for envisioning our future. The main themes are ones we’ve all been tapping into for a while now, last year they…
Leave a CommentIt’s all happening!! I picked up my first batch of prints from the printer today. Here’s a screenshot from my =store=, which can be found in the menu at the top of this site, also here.
Leave a CommentSo mucho scrunch-faces olde before their time I’m still nibbling at chickweed but singing the song of Mugwort Oh Artemisia, riding in on a strange fingered fog wispy, delicate bells of moonlight the water at night. Nevermind the lightning, its…
Leave a Comment