Morning Images

5″ x 7″ cherrywood block print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical vine black in.

Morning Images

While silent peacocks simply fade away

into the stubble of the barley field,

it’s just a common, early autumn day

with early morning fog. A Stellar jay

is raucous, momentarily revealed,

while silent peacocks simply fade away.

A squirrel in a California bay

chatters at me, then it too is concealed.

It’s just a common, early autumn day

and soon the fog will lift. I hear the neigh

of yearlings, (Memories: the past congealed)

while silent peacocks simply fade away.

(The arboretum, brilliant sunlight, May.)

That silent gaping wound has long since healed.

It’s just a common, early autumn day.

She would not tell me why she would not stay,

but that’s resolved, has long since been annealed;

while silent peacocks simply fade away.

It’s just a common, early autumn day.

Naked Maja

5″ x 7″ cherrywood block print on Somerset
with Graphic Chemical vine black ink.

Naked Maja


The alcove hidden underneath the stair

was now her home. She’d placed a narrow bed

against the kitchen wall and she would sleep

surrounded by her mirrors.


Daddy took

the picture. They were staying at the beach

the day she would have graduated. She’s

reclining on a beach towel with her right

hand shading out the sun. “You’ve got the air

of Madame Fauntleroy,” her father said,

“and carry on with every no good creep.

You got to settle down; become a cook,

or something steady, sure.”


She held a peach

between her teeth and grinned at him. The trees

behind her held their future. “We just might

be in the clear this year. If we take care

of them, they’ll care for us. Just tilt your head

a little to the side. You are too deep

in shadow. Catch the sun.” It seemed a hook

would always jerk the future from her reach

when it was in her grasp. A late Spring freeze

destroyed the crop.


She quickly stole a bite

of cheesecake and she giggled. Would he dare

to tell her once again she moved her head?

She’d laughed and threatened, “Take a flying leap!

I’ll eat or you can paint another. Look,

you know the meaning of the phrase, ‘To each

his own?'” She laughed at him. The Summer breeze

was soft on naked skin, and in that light

she felt resplendent.


Pinning up her hair

for bed, she listened while her husband fed

himself and climbed the stair. She pushed a heap

of unwashed clothes, her curling iron and book

on to the floor. Too bad you couldn’t teach

me Daddy. Guess I just can’t seem to please

anyone. Good night my dear, good night.

October Afternoon

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

October afternoon, and still I wait

For you to re-appear. “It isn’t fair.”

You told me. “Why am I the only one

To have to suffer?” Silently, I want

Exploding stars, and black volcanic ash

To cover up the world. Instead I get

The northern lights and melancholy whales,

Spring flowers growing in the cracked-clay dirt,

And ruby-throated hummingbirds, and bees.

Whatever happened? In a thoughtless world

The rainbows are supposed to all turn grey

While scorpions of frightful size attack.

Guitars and salsa music shouldn’t play,

Are inappropriate unless they’re played

With broken strings.

But nothing, nothing’s changed.

At Samuel P. Taylor State Park

5″ x 7″ cherry wood print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical Vine Black Ink

My husband, if he comes, will bring raw milk.

The stuff they sell in stores I wouldn’t feed

our pigs. We’re renting; sort of like a work

exchange. We only have a hundred head

and they belong to Mr. Peterson.

But all the calves are ours. He only wants

the milk and us to keep the place until

it’s sold. I hope it doesn’t bother you

to look at me; but while I’m camping, well

it hurts to wear my wig. My husband bought

it. See, my hair just doesn’t seem to grow

as quickly over steel as over bone.

The doctor said I was suppose to stay

in bed; but bed is boring, lonely too;

so I convinced my husband I could rest

while camping just as well as I could rest

at home. We spent our honeymoon right here.

I hadn’t camped before but with the cost

of everything and being out of work,

my husband thought that this would be the best

that we could do. And as it happened, he

was right. We camped beside the stream. I loved

the time we were together, here. You sure

it doesn’t bother you to look at me?