"What we see depends mainly on what we look for...."

is another version of my favorite quote "we don't see things as they are, we see them as we are...". The older I get, the more I live, the more people I encounter, the more I recognize the profoundness of this quote, and the chord it strikes within me.

Another favorite quote of mine is “Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terror, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.” As one who has only come to painting in the last year and a half, I still feel there is a universe of knowledge and insight for me to acquire with galaxies and galaxies of enchantment floating within that universe. But, one thing that I have learned for sure is that art is born of terror, loneliness, inhibitions, and yes, it does balance them in a beautiful, beautiful way.

I didn't begin painting to accomplish anything other than peace of mind. But, a few brushstrokes into my first painting, I knew that I was hooked. It became a way for me to take very painful experiences, and release them in a way that was not angry, bitter, or brutal - but instead, beautiful to some degree, however, elementary that degree may be.

My art has been criticized. Accused of bordering pornography. I've been called an unfit mother because of it, and my character desecrated. I think the most prolific criticisms stem from my painting above - one titled "Can You Read Between the Lines" ...... Often, when we meet someone, there is so much more to them than meets the eye. I believe that each of us holds a profound story within. We are each a legend, and each a legend worth hearing. No matter your race, your social class, where you live in this world, or what tragedies have befallen you, you are worthy of being heard.

Sadly, in many parts of the world, despite the advancements of the 21st Century, women are still viewed as second rate, worthy of less than humane treatment, deserving of abuse, and often that treatment is common in countries where gold, henna, and the adornment of women are so prominent. Despite the golds that are more brilliant than most we have seen here in the Western world, and the beautiful silks, the dangling bangles, and the beautiful lines of henna - there are often many, many untold and unacknowledged stories between all of those lines.

That is all this image says.

No innuendos in the placement of her hand, no pornographic intent. But a saying of "here I am, bare before you, I have these lines, this gilded adornment - but can you read between these lines?"

I am a mother of future women. I am a woman. I am the daughter of a woman. I am the granddaughter of a woman. I am the employee of a woman. I am the close friend of women. What is there that is unfit about a woman?

home

bound words

with bent pages

cover every surface

water colored memories

splashed

across heavy linen paper

fill all the corners

(i've determined those memories are kept best there)

i've got

poems on the walls,

colored glass praying

in the western windows,

stars on the ceilings

and wishes screamed

into heavy silk pillows

you see,

i've been searching

for a place

large enough to contain

all of my teeming,

mismatched parts

but

small enough

to hear

my silent

'thank yous'

in all this seeking

I wondered

how you felt

about wide open spaces

in an overcrowded heart?

a toast

I used to quench my parched places

with

the bitter juices

of your soured fruits

ever thirsty, I was

then

I came to my own ade

and

sipped the sweet succulence

that dripped

from my rims

here

I stir

with soothing gulps

of bold flavor

that can't be

bottled

or

bittered

you asked for it

there it was

in black and white

with the curves and valleys

of another's pen

the desolate wasteland

of us

I could no longer

say to myself

it wasn't as bad

as it was

and

it was just my memory

playing those silly

little games

with me

Their tears

for my pain

-a reaffirmation

of my own strength

Wouldn't you be

surprised to know

that even after

all of this

all I have to say is"thank you"

undercurrents

Finally,

I have slipped off this

itchy, wool sweater

buttoned by years of self doubt

and

dropped the long, pleated skirt

of unworthiness

slowly around my ankles

there, on the bed beside you

lies a brightly striped towel

perfect for containing

the voluptuousness of possibilities

that exists in this turquoise sea

of warm openness

if only

we can dive from

this quiet shore

of

acceptableness

'nothing is so powerful as beauty in a wicked world'

.....So go the words from one of Amos Lee's many breathtaking songs. I'm not one to buy into celebritydom, fame, or be wowed by anything from that Universe. But, a few weeks ago, that all changed.

A friend of mine sent me a link and in his usual understated way said "haven't heard anything by this fella I don't like".... I was hooked instantly. I quickly found out he would be in Atlanta, called my best girlfriend, fretted over what to wear, begged babysitters, pleaded with the boss, and headed North......Is this how all those cryin' girls felt when the Beatles landed Stateside??? An idea I never grapsed.... If I was a teenager I'd have Amos Lee posters on my walls, and if I'd been 16, I'm sure I would've been screaming in the front row.....from soulful folk, to blue, to just good ole belly rubbin' music - he covers it all and covers it splendidly.

A school teacher and bartender from Philadelphia that says he found his musical voice when he came to the South to go to college (I'm clearing my throat softly) and decided to give it a go. And good looking, did I mention that?? And ever so humble?? Always a bonus in good looking gifted guys.

Check out his Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/amoslee and listen to all of his albums for free. Hear his interviews on NPR, and watch every range of video quality on Youtube. You won't be disappointed..........and Amos, though my reserved and quiet father would be mortified at my shameless admiration, may I say - I am a Southern Girl, I do have a front porch swing, I've been in love with John Prine since I was 10, and I make a helluva peanutbutter pie.... SO, if you ever find yourself stranded in the wilds of the rural South, I've got a great patio, the beer is always cold, and some stories you wouldn't believe......I'm just sayin'.......

Ti

Her words weave

a prayer rug

of brilliant jeweled tones

for us infidels

to kneel upon and offer

our awe

at their majesty

her thoughts

a honeyed sweet additive

for the tea of

our bitter

everydayness

oh

that I were the fly

on her apple

waiting patiently

for her carving

while her fingers

hastily

jot down

the juiciness

of morning glories

and

commonalities

Once in a great while someone's words just strike us, reach all those unreachable places, and leave you full after reading. In my lifetime those writers have been Anna Akhmatova, Zora Neal Hurston, Alice Walker, Anais Nin, Marina Tsvetaeva, Ranier Rilke and Ti Klinger. I call her this century's Dorothy Parker. Wit, depth, tears, giggles - she encompasses all of it, perfectly. Ti, quit being so stingy - share your words with the world. They need to hear them!

Katherine

I am certain, were it not for Divineness, our paths would have never crossed. She hails from a blue blooded Yankee family, and I the Southern carpenter's daughter from a Tobacco Road Mama. She grew up the diplomat's daughter in Turkey. I grew up in a government house in the rural South... But what fulfillment our crossing paths have brought us. I introduced her to cheap coffee, Bailey White, and remind her that one can hold nothing in their hands and still find exquisiteness in the hay bales against the blue sky, walks to the dollar store, and Merle Haggard on the patio. She taught me the proper pronunciation of "brie'", brought me scarves from Italy, believed my red cardinal story, let me weep in her vineyard, and yelled at me about the sparkling beauty within me. Anais Nin said "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.". How true this is, and how surreal this world that we have created between us. And most amazingly, she always wears the perfect shade of a satin.

indisposed

he had assured her

that the cure

was between the braids

of her long golden hair

now,

if only he could

convince her

that he

was

ailing

personification

great tidal waves of words

well up within

and crash

at the shore

that is there

between my breasts and my throat

where my babies

have laid

their hands and

my lovers have laid

their heads

these words,

the sunrises of new beginnings,

sunsets of old aches,

stinging bites of misunderstandings,

watery mists of spent dreams

and

the hope

that you

will be content

to lie here

upon my shore.