Like gently playing chords first loud then…nonchalantly………soft; the secret siphoning of information from my mind to where my students sit and accidentally learn.Read more "The Art of Teaching"
Artists are crazy. We all know it, but no one seems to understand why. There are two answers, of course. One, they are wack-biscuits. Two, they are Melenorian. It should be noted that what follows is a theory, but a very scientifically sound theory. Long ago in an alternate time stream, there was an alternate […]Read more "Why Melenoria?"
Words and music played. Through them, yet still suspended, hung the breath of life. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –Read more "Conduit"
“Just paint it any way you choose,” the well-intentioned voices say. “Just make it beautiful today; This space is meant for you to use.” But on this canvas, I’m so small, and the brush is awkward in my hand. How will my work turn out as planned when I can’t even see it all? […]Read more "The Painter and the Canvas"
He hunched beside the desk, trying for art. But then he heard the radio— The drums and chants and tunes from all across the world, A thousand rays of sunshine, a thousand days of bliss, a whirlwind surge of breathless life-pulse beating in his heart. – He stared beneath the sky at bursting stars and […]Read more "Purpose"
Sparks of fire dot the night meandering in trails of sudden bright, and flashing dark— luminescent light-tails seen. And quickly lost to sight. – The light ignites! A yellow ball appears beside my arm. I flash-grab at it greedily, but powered by alarm it disappears beyond recall. – I never know where I would take […]Read more "Chasing Fireflies"
Ebony on top of ivory Face mirrors shining. Waiting to be played. Daunting beauty, magically arrayed. With hidden music only few can see while list’ners wonder what must be the key. Is beauty only effort—all man-made: hard work, denial, human drive displayed? A marker to our creativity? But notes ignite an ember in our […]Read more "Reflections"
They were always together— Drawn like lovers On their sketch pads. And then they weren’t— Pencils upside down, Purging the past. They are never together anymore— Distinct masterpieces Drawn over the marks that would not erase.Read more "Break Ups"