The Brother

oil on linen
21 ½” x 31″

watercolor
24″ x 29″

watercolor
20″ x 15″

I wake up and I think of you.
I think of Honey.
I think of a Big Room filled with Honey.
I think of a Museum filled with Honey.
I am thankful to you.
I think of my Aunt Bess,
Always taping a lucky penny
To the Birthday Cards she sends me.
The penny has to be new so it looks like gold,
Though it’s only copper.
I think of you as I hold my lucky penny
And I am rich.
You make all my paintings for me.
Day dreaming and drifting off
I think of you
And my paintings magically appear
Before my eyes
Made up by themselves.
I used to be in the restaurant business
With my Aunt Bess
Until you took me with you
To a room filled with music.

oil on linen
21″ x 29″

From your lighthouse,
You shine a light for me in the dark.
You give me a reflection of myself
That comes from far off.
My voice comes back to me,
Mirrored in blue light,
Big and strong,
Filtered and pure.
I explore as much as I want
And then come back to you
For peace.

oil on linen
33″ x 43″

My friend and I may be psychological twins in the sense of being split archetypes, the sun and moon. I have a compulsive warmness. He has a compulsive coldness. I live in the city. He lives in the country. He is tall. I’m short. He is a man. I am a woman. He is attached to the earth. I float in the clouds. He doesn’t talk about death. That’s all I talk about. He likes games and distractions. I like contemplation and psychology. I wallow. He doesn’t refer to personal suffering. I live in a dangerous neighborhood. He won’t go anywhere he has to lock his car. I am messy. He is neat as a pin. I’m disorganized. He is organized. I am intuitive. He is analytical. He hates me. I love him.

oil on linen

oil on linen

oil on linen

oil on linen

oil on linen

oil on linen

oil on linen