Christmas 2008

-After a wood engraving by John Gilbert-

5″ x 7″ cherrywood block print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical Bone-black ink.

Thanksgiving is still two days away, and already I have a finished
print for the Christmas cards I will be sending to family, friends,
and those who bought a print during the year. Perhaps this year
I will even start my Christmas shopping before Christmas eve!


5″ x 7″ on Somerset paper with Graphic Chemical Bone Black Ink.
The print was then hand colored with acrylic paint.

(I haven’t decided whether I like the black and white version
or the painted version better.)


for Jo-Ellen Truelove

You know my Joey, he’s a little man.

He wouldn’t even make a third of me.

Well he was jabbing at me, going on

about utilities, about the lights

and water and the phone.

“Marie,” he said,

“ya gotta shut your mouth. Your sister lives

in Maine. She isn’t living down the street.”

As if I didn’t know where Linda lives.

He stuck his bony finger in my face

and yelled about the bills. I hate it when

he pokes that bony finger in my face.

His face was red. “A bony lobster.” That’s

my name for him. He hates it when I call

him that. “Well Bony, why don’t you just pay

the bills and quit complaining. You’re at fault

as much as me.” I told him.

Lobster red

he was. His mouth was working up a fit

and that old bony finger jabbed away

a whisker from my nose. I said to him

I couldn’t hear a word he said. And then

I said, “I gotta make some water for

your bills.” and went to piss.

I hadn’t just

got seated, he had left the cover up

again, when there he was a jabbering

away. Well what do you expect a girl

to do? There wasn’t any way he’d give

me any peace. I couldn’t even piss

in peace. So sitting there, my dress all bunched

around my waist, I let him have it.


just bounced into the shower where he knocked

the curtain from the wall and landed there

surrounded by that plastic organdy

he’s always after me to throw away.

American Craftsmanship

5″ x 7″ cherry wood block print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical intense black ink

American Craftsmanship

The basket’s under glass surrounded by

security and lights and other works

produced by primitive Americans.

It’s bottom, tight enough for acorn mush,

flares out into a willow filigree,

a lazy-squaw stitch making up the sides;

and red bud strips are woven at the top

to form a geometrical design.

The gallery is carpeted in gray;

the walls are egg shell white. Ladies dressed

from Nordstroms quietly converse about

proportion, color, line, simplicity.

Helicopters with their booms extended

spray the marsh and river for mosquitoes.

The women take the year old willow wands

and split them with their teeth in perfect thirds

and try to teach their daughters how to weave

traditional designs with shaking hands.

Blue Eyes

5″ x 7″ cherry wood block print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical intense black ink.

Blue Eyes

Our eyes sparkled when

we made a list of blue eyes

laughing in the sun:

Popeye-food growing in rows

on a cow-munching hillside.

Strawberry Jell-O for midnight snack.

Proserpine’s biceps bulging.

Einstein smiling, sticking his tongue out.

The Laƶcoon.



Your crystalline eyes wait

patiently, watching the kitchen clock

take its measured meaningless time.

When did our laughter cease?

Blue eyes no longer lie in wait

For gap toothed hags to


All Hallows Eve and Independence Day

are merely holidays with crystal nights

and gray eyed girls in pinafores and

steel eyed men in worsted

suits populate the world.