Text from Huffpost Science: Mice Sing To Attract Mates, Courtship Study Reveals and Smithsonian.com: The Mystery of the Singing Mice
[Click the image to see other credits & larger sizes at flickr.]
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Text from Huffpost Science: Mice Sing To Attract Mates, Courtship Study Reveals and Smithsonian.com: The Mystery of the Singing Mice
[Click the image to see other credits & larger sizes at flickr.]
To my astonishment, my work will be published in the April 2012 issue of Stampington's Art Journaling Magazine. This article is going to be the first in their new Digital Art Journaling department. What you see above is half of a four-page spread (posted with permission.)
I am astonished because, for the year I've been doing this, I've constantly questioned why. I'm a poet, not an artist. I know many of my (past) regular followers have been frustrated by this unexpected turn of events. Where are the poems?
I'm further astonished that, with all the excellent work out there, mine has been chosen. Luck plays a bigger part in our lives than we sometimes like to admit.
A benefactor submitted these on my behalf. My energy is limited; I can make poems and pictures, or I can submit them, but I can't manage both. (NOTE for anyone interested: I nearly always say yes when asked.)
Amber Demien at Stampington & Co. has been wonderfully patient and supportive through this (rather intimidating) process. That I have some skills in this arena is thanks to classes at BigPictureClasses and JessicaSprague, and I am consistently inspired by Tangie Baxter and her Art Journal Caravan.
It seems to be true: we're never too old to learn something new.
Other pages of mine have also been published on various blogs, including Gallery Standouts, Photo/arts Magazine, Tangie Baxter News, and Explorations in Art Journaling Zine. I've been reticent about posting those, afraid to bore my audience, but I'm going to start posting when this happens, and I have a made flickr set of those pages:
www.flickr.com
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What is this life? A string of beads. The string
is broken, beads scattered on the floor. Why
do you linger? Famished, wanting more.
He loves you. In your dreams it all replays.
You get a second chance. The dance
goes on, couples hold and sway to music
only you can hear. You think too much.
You work too hard. It’s all for nothing.
The dog gets lost, the kittens cry for milk
and mothers gone to wildness. There’s nothing left.
You lose yourself in houses you once knew.
The garden stones are buried in snow.
[Click the image to see credits & larger sizes at flickr.]
the heart opens
at the edge of the eye
like the flick of a squirrel’s tail
like the flick of a deer’s tail
shadow inside shadow
a movement, a blur
a quiver of light
a thicker darkness
like trying to grasp
a handful of mist
like sound in fog
distant
then close
tapping your ear
then gone
black loping through trees
articulates
into bear
walking a familiar path
on a clear winter day
ravens lift
all at once
suddenly
avalanche
the mountain comes down
you’re breathless
you’re broken
you are permanently
irrevocably
irretrievably
lost
[Click the image to see credits & larger sizes at flickr.]
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