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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
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
personal flotation device
personal flotation device
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
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
sprite
sprite
somethingbold
somethingbold
somethingold
somethingold
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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