communicate

hiddenfreedoms@yahoo.com

23.3.10

stencil & WIP


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11.3.10

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9.3.10

first date in the summer

grass stained scraped knees
dirty palms
bare feet
bugs on blanket

orange peels under finger nails
sticky hands
sticky cheeks
citrus teeth

hot naps in hot sun
matted hair
red cheeks
shoulders touch


pen drawings on hands
braiding strings on cut off jeans
meeting eyes
butterflies

walking home
with clover pockets
hand in hand
backyard beers
 ~michelle
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4.3.10

papá ido dos años

you are still gone...
you not coming back?
squeezed eyes and muddy knees won't resurrect?

you put the "un" in conditional
do you know padre that no one ever does that?
you are the only person who has loved me with
no matter what

you put the listening in hearing
do you know padre that no one ever does that?
you are the only person who scooped up my words
blew off the dust and rocked them at night


you put the "non" in judgemental
do you know padre that no one ever does that?
you are the only person who saw beneath my human condition
to my heart

you put the gleam in eye
do you know padre that no one ever does that?
you noticed the skips in my walk,
the time in my gifts,
and the light in my eyes

today
my knees drew your love in
i put your dirt back under my nails
and maybe i can learn to love me the way you did

 ~michelle
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isolation-rainy windows-rock hunting- stick carving- mobile making-picture jumping- secrets-cedar wood, sandalwood, lavender, lemongrass, broken green leaves and baby twigs- open skies that fill my belly- duality- paths that never cross- the smell of knees- red wine, campfire tea-home roasted coffee, green smoothies, yellow delicious apples everyday, fever dreams- drinking from cantaloupes- medium format photography- renegade art- dirty knees- patches- stripes-plaster- diy- reality and daydreams switching places- digging clay- oscillating fans- dioramas- tree worlds- travel tree travelogues- carrots- memories of my father that crawl across the floor, up my arms and into my cheeks- captured images- captured thoughts on my nightstand-turtle homes- hopes- sweat from hard work- long bike rides and aching legs- brushing my teeth outside- dirty fingernails- ink on my hands- unfiltered thoughts- originality- creating from beginnings-mint fields in mist- empty canvases,tubes of paint and endless nights- screaming songs into the wind- sharing secrets with birds- puddles, creeks, streams, hidden worlds behind waterfalls- feather tattoos-looking through paper towel rolls- defying Murphy and his law- green and blue- tearing out pictures- "Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now."(bob dylan)- "I have tried in my way to be free"(leonard cohen)... knowing these words to my very core.- learning-exploring-learning-exploring-slowly moving and watching and experiencing all fully and within the ritual, catching my reflection as a little girl...