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Doug : Back Yard Artist Doug's Photos


MsJesus : 30X40” Watercolor on Canvas   There are fences Defining a space A pump is in the creek noise And fountains of water-spray across Neat rows A river watering the garden flowed from Eden   I was alone on this walk The man said,        This is now bone of my bones        and flesh of my flesh;        she shall be called woman,        for she was taken out of man.   The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.   The road between the fields Between the fences was lined With wild plants of all kinds And a tree grew there With heavy moss Grey-green hanging In the sunlight   Reason and Intuition Roles and Being Sun and Moon Eagle sails across the surface of a waxing moon The cross of Peter was nailed in upside down In the morning   A ritual fire burns in the evening A wooden figure of a goddess with a serpent A clay man cracks in the coals Ashes to ashes we all fall down The itsy bitsy spider Goes up the spout again Down goes the rain And it’s green hills And the wind cries Mary Into the sails Of Sunday boats on Monterey Bay   “Are you getting up now? it’s 7:20.”    
MsJesus
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EntracedDance : 22X30” Watercolor on paper   I’m not sure what to do when you love this much, when you desire so much life-blood flows down your legs in pools at our feet, An African dance The drum calling in that push away from me Pull me into you sort of way The ocean singing in soft tones And crashing In tears Leaning against the back of couch Because I needed that bit of distance Lest I just get drowned in the whirlpool Venus dressed in barnacles and neglect That wisp of hair Across the gap With gentle fingers Before the drum calls For something more beautiful
EntracedDance
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personal flotation device
personal flotation device
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Picasso's Rose Period Eyes :   30X40" Watercolor and Indian ink on canvasStanding in a doorwayRight passed the over turned garbage Can with vegetable scrapsAnd cactus hearts Spewed outSlinging an old guitarShoutingTo no oneTo anyoneWho will listenIn a tiger striped outfitWild hairLike some soapbox preacherTo an unknown god of oneWe pass byAs he mutters"It's Halloween everyday for me"So unlike SandyAnd her serial monogamyBoy,girl,boy,girlPaperdollsCactus heartAnd vegetable scrapsLeft behindOn Mission streetThe scent of rose incenseDrifting through the open windowWhere"Jesus loves you"is written in SpanishAnd you know I love youWith all of meAnd I would say it more oftenBut it's just too big andIt takes a whileFor me to travelTo someplace whereI can actuallyTouch you with this desire
Picasso's Rose Period Eyes
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TurquoiseAndRustSkin : Bee’s wax and Pigment on folded paper19X25"     Fire and Water Firewater The tears of Pele Strung out on a cheap string With rusted beads Interspersed with pure Tropical sea   A reservation With golden grass Interspersed With a cyclone fence With a big sky With a narrow broken road With rusted Chevy trucks With crushed Budweiser cans With your watery blue eyes With pure white clouds Floating on Just barely Brushing her light fingers Across the tip-top Of a mountain Saying hello Saying goodbye
TurquoiseAndRustSkin
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sprite
sprite
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somethingbold
somethingbold
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somethingold
somethingold
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Hum Of The Cicada :   22 X 28" Watercolor on paperThat evening after you left me sitting by the Lillie pads,The swamplands Where wooden boatsWere brought in under the cover of nightAnd you know they are building nowAbove the alcoveWhere we lounged that AugustSeventeen years agoOur legs were touchingAnd I didn't dare move and I wondered if you noticedI wanted to say something butI couldn'tLest the magic be lostLike something alive And buried in the EarthCovered in the warm darknessCovered in snowSo I risk nothing and I lost nothingJust Lillie padsFloating in the evening lightAnd even their forms I can't conceiveIt's always just the hum of cicadasOn the south sideOf this mountainThat seem to hushThe moment you get close enoughTo touch one.And her arms are the windSwirling in the tree topsAnd her kissRainThe lost lake of Lakeside DriveIs now goneOr maybe I just couldn't find it againThe tree I sat on had to be there thenBecause I needed it to be there thenAnd nowI wander through a groveOf white RhododendronHearing the humSo close that I think It must be mesinging
Hum Of The Cicada
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