spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
I’ll share a couple summer-photo posts from the last couple months. Any follower of my blog knows I’m generally quite busy in summer with harvesting, fishing, and processing of foods. This year I also have a house being built as well as tending a new, rather large, garden. I also am soon preparing for this year’s moose and processing that, which is always a big job but provides several of us with meat for the year.
tara caribou | ©2022 all photos by me
(cover photo: sea otter floating by)
Here’s a few pieces I’ve done this month, not including business artwork. Some of these are available for sale on my Society6 page, where you can get high-quality artwork printed on a variety of items such as phone covers, puzzles, mugs, wall art, rugs, clothing, and more!
July life update coming soon!
tara caribou | ©2022 all art by me.
tara caribou | ©2022 ink & colored pencil, artwork by me
would have been, in days past, that the arguments and pain and hurtful words would have thrown me into a spiral. envisioning red ribbons across pale flesh and splashes of life (precious) dripping onto bathroom tiles. forget the sharp blade, I’d reach for the rusty one. or else a bottle of pills or worse. overcome with I-can’t-do-this-anymore’s and this-isn’t-worth-it’s. rocking back and forth, head tapping on the wall. give yourself a big hug before the end. tears, tears, tears.
enduring love which grows and doesn’t give up, deep friendship flowered and fostered, small hands with beautiful smiles. work. hard work. perseverance and hope. forgiveness and repentance pouring. and the act of creation. white pages first barren now filling, filling, absorbing, blotting, tearing, crumpling, bearing the bountiful burdens, never judging. pencil, pen, marker, paint, watercolor, acrylic, pastel. abstract, surrealism, realism, absurdism, comically ridiculousness, immature… but healing! oh how healing!
so that now, even right now, the blues in missing you or wishing to be holding you, or tired of the fights and frights and misgivings and words best left unspoken. the painful scars reopened. the ocd manic imploring. begging to take over once more. with the past in the past but never quite gone… somehow able to hold my head high. to go out for a walk into the wildness of nature. to listen to the waves and watch the sea birds or the wildlife or the flowers growing or a humble bumble bee just being a bee and able to breathe it in. to let it go. to forgive. to be brave. to forge ahead. to live. to love. to learn. to grow.
tara caribou | ©2022
your fingers trail in the lazy rivers
of my heart
I remember you
I remember you!
you with your troubled past
and a hopeful future
you with the fires of passion
on the corner of your lip
your delicate heart and shy feet
trodding lightly
(you long ago learned
to keep quiet as a mouse)
but you, you have so much
to give the world
oh yes, I remember you
how I longed to rage
against the dragon for you
to rip out the roots of injustice
to baptize you in healing pure waters
in my mind’s eye:
I fought with holy vengeance
sword in one hand
and the terror of light in the other
my mouth pouring forth incantations
of righteous wrath
the dragon reduced
to a whimpering cowering man in the end
but I did not stop
I chopped him to pieces
then trode upon his wicked flesh and
also that of the mangled body
of his weak-minded accomplice
then building a pyre and burning them both
and once done
turning and holding out my hand to you
you uncurling from your egg
standing up tall
so tall!
your chin held high
now clothed in dove white
stepping forward and glowing
yes, I remember you
for your fingers pluck
at the edges of my heart’s banks
[I still have the sword and the light,
shall we go hunting together?]
tara caribou | ©2022
Sign of the times… at least neither of them had matches or a can of spray paint.
But seriously, I love watching the wildlife. Whether it’s napping or eating or kicking up their heels or boxing. Who needs tv when you have real life?!
tara caribou | ©2022 video by me
first comes the tug
the jagged little tug
a rip and a tear
unstopping the cork
-pop!-
careful selection
no.. no… n— ah yes
twisting, shredding, packing
carefully readying
then comes the burn
how bright! how bold!
hungry, painfully hungry
seemingly unsatisfied until
suddenly giving way to fullness
a wisp of memory
how can such a small spark
beget such magic
tangible yet almost invisible
energy begging to be tapped
tame me! (but don’t contain me)
next a rush of oxygen
oxygen and -something else-
something NOT oxygen
heat and earth and light
a duality, the mixing
encircling with water and flesh
relaxing into motes of dust
charcoal grey, dancing
swirling her skirts before
turning and fading away
resting, chin on palm
eyes gazing far
beyond auroras and the moon’s path
seeing more
differently, but more
not clearer, the layers in between
fresh light on old subjects
finally the bone-weary ache
an aching heart
an empty hand
a divided momentum
it seeps in, makes itself known
one desire raising up then lying down
followed by another and another
subside, dominate, relax
after sleep
eye-shift, clear vision
at the junction, paused
then passing through
elements of all join
(for a moment, a mere moment!)
releasing and then become
-inhale-exhale- remade
tara caribou | ©2022
livingforthemoon
Butterwell's Blog
Trying to find meaning in this chaotic world
... from a silent space
Jane's Lens
Professional Wildlife, Landscape and Seascape Photography
Love to write!
Life Is Beautiful
Apologies for my apologies
All of Me
Providing a voice for the voiceless. Poets, artists, writers...sound off! Grinding through the dumpster fire that can be life...possibly get published
Writing and Whatnot
Poet and Artist ✫ Jay Mora-Shihadeh