dorinda likes to doodle daringly on napkins unseen unnoticed by the scramblers eating eggs or sipping bitter coffee sometimes she pops out a song or sketches a summer scene from somewhere no one's been now here i am in Chicago frozen to the bone doodling on a napkin and wishing i was home but, lacking that i send a pre-doodled napkin to someone who appreciates napkins and things. douglas brent smith
the cold wind blew uncut as ocean waves kicked stone gray jetties large gaping cracks between the rocks long suggestive pauses in our dialogue steps away a homasote haunted castle beyond a secret mist two blocks in the distance a single block between what we said and what pooled below the surface moist light beach sand crisp night air a buoy on the horizon this is your turf your haunting ground the smells salt sweet gulls and mussels and popcorn blended inseparable from that late summer visit our individual yet tethered travels returning each of us again to us in our own ocean so deep we may not swim beyond the mystery of the tingling unhinging phrases unstrung broken guitar strings a chipped boardwalk recollection stunning afternoon thru evening tones incidental sublimations consequential quirks of fate probing endless questions colored by scattered sighs barely audible experience unsaid unconsummated ties that clouds cover us and the moon that night one of our full moons stalking us ...
Creating on Illusion - collage by Douglas Brent Smith Where's the illusion? What sleight of hand do we focus on? I think that I made this collage in 1989. That was so long ago and yet, in terms of illusions, not long at all. What do you think?
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