Patches Again

Anyone want one?

$5 for WISCO PRIDE

alworman@gmail.com

As of Late

The lake rising above me, the steep ground pushes me closer.

I womp when I walk.

Stride leaning, cowering, swaying. The trees, branches crack. Back curves, try to be flat. Hope not to slope as the ground does. Tide, no tide, although it tries.

No salt to satisfy. I’d rather it that way, why?

Left, flap, right.

The light leaves some shadows. The leaves leave, crack, drift, like my mind.

Where are you?

Hallows await, the gate. My gate, yours. Symmetrical, we try.

Here is where i’d like to run, now though, no. I will not, for the predictability sets in. Possibly, causable, probably, possible, I wish I did.

Sometimes I am here with you, or her, or him, who used to be IT.

Trail, then, lead me to the rocks, where my feet loose their footing, where I wobble and clank, and keep my head to the ground,

stuck in the color of the sand that once was, and now is, formed.

Seagulls squawk ahead and overhead. With jet tails from planes mistaken as their exhaust and eyes to the lake for a catch.

How do they see from up so high?

I cannot see the end, though If I were to fall in, splash, I would surely know it.

I sit where I shouldn’t, I am not scared.

I haven't written in a long while..

lost in age and gender

role and goal

sitting sometimes

next to the mudslide of algae

she sculpted

transcended year after year

season after season

into the island it is now

her island in the city

always too loud

lilly pads sprout up

ask where they are

so rare in this vicinity

fish circle her

sometimes

but not as much as the bark

the moon, Luna, howls near by

with a bite that put the other one down

modestly, shamefully

we will always feel guilty

a splinter, a toothpick hangs from her mouth

she looks nervous

her teeth almost grinding

she looks calm

her eyes close and feel the sun

they squint too tight

and she moves to the shade

checks the watch on her belt loop

picks with the splinter

and these soft teeth came from her

these thighs didn’t

not these legs

only this year did she begin to feel old

wishing she could move rocks like she used to

pondering the boulder from her stomach

sometimes she plays the piano

and cries

the ivory battered

striking her fingers

talking back

and i’ve listened

danced sang hummed along

one long song

the end not concrete

variations of the same story

she thinks this way

Hoan

The Street

Installing Arms in the Snow

what do you think?

Said Ben

Biemann Manor

ceramics final

Approximately 16" 

coil built, stenciled, slip glaze

Installations Final

Machine and Hand Sewn, Hand Dyed Fabric, Stuffed with Polyfill

Through it All

Just this

Something to Remember, That I Usually Forget

Walking on Rocks

On the Way to Antigo

Miller Time

Champs

New York Last Weekend

Fibers Final: Family Garden

video on my blog

i just uploaded the first video installation i ever did on my blog.

it takes forever to load other wise i would put it up on here.

check it out?

feed back is appreciated.

http://alofthesun.blogspot.com/