There is a grey glossy
Swaying in the soft
Hanging in loops on a cardboard
In front of a lean vertical
The rainbow has fallen into
The desert crag
A single palm tree is
There’s a red-oak in the
Breaking the ceiling
Across the road it is
There are letters written by a
Spewing from its neighbor
The letters coax everything into the white
Of a hut of mysterious
The hut is founded as paradise
It also founded the action blinded by
Of the fighting
Set in a grey glossy
Swaying in the soft
Hello, i received some new comments from people…of course whom i didn’t know. but They seamed nice enough. some of them were written in Spanish. one of the people told me that they believed i could be a famous blogger. i wondered. famous? perhaps that’s something people do as bloggers. but paid for job? this i don’t know much about.
anyway, to all: thanks.
i did mark some as spam.
I have many goals. stay posted.
visit my https://www.etsy.com/shop/CacalanoStudios (on etsy.com) to see my new body of art work. paintings. acrylic on canvas. abstract expressionism. and if you would like to buy a painting please contact me on the site or at my email: firstname.lastname@example.org
My father is now gone, but he did air quite a few paintings of his on television. one such show was king of queens.
Maybe one day, i had hoped, i would do the same. but i think that my goals are a bit different now.
I am a Spanish teacher. and live in prosperity South Carolina. If you would like to join
as a student I take appts. for beginners and intermediates at the studio. and I also take students on Skype and messenger from my account on http://www.eurekly.com as Carmen Palmine Cacalano.
I have had many Spanish friends. One of whom whose family lived near by when i was growing up about 15 years of age. her family only could speak Spanish. they came from Argentina. and they still contact me today on occasion. we were very good friends for many years. and i did learn Spanish well with them. Also excellent level classes all the way through school. and a few boyfriends in the past whom did help me to learn the language.
I was looking up surveys to take as a means of extra income. but the certain ones i found seamed faulty a bit.
My sister has recently taken a trip to Ireland with her husband on vacation.
(this is all just news by the way)
and i hope sincerely that they did enjoy themselves. it snowed. but I’m sure it is lovely. and fun. (not sure when they’ll get back)
Many prayers going to the people whom i love these days. making new friends in town.
One in particular is a woman aged 30 years old. whose very very kind. we go on walks and talk and hang around home.
I spend my time researching the mechanics of Spanish as to teach what i already know by heart. much of this knowledge is now instinctual and i feel also a need to write in Spanish so that i can perfect my flow of expression.
well, I’ll add to the news post later.
ta ta. much love. xoxo
The light that convinces me to take a
skip in the heart beat
is the one that wins my heart.
to leap into the water with laughter;
is the image synopsis that plays on my mind-
while i accentuate highlights into the colder realm of winter
for security of the deep hibernation
that does not live.
no not at all.
but sleeps and wakes mechanically
wishing it could understand the skipping stones
on the frozen lake.
awoken to bake and melt
in the time it takes
for a seed to recognize
it still exists
under the earth.
soberly trailing off the edge of something
inebriated with total glee.
making a spherical rotation
with each drink.
touch me, skies, with you’re own disguise
and soften my way
that if i lay on the ground
I’ll be sound
in the shooting stars
exiting every instant
and entering ever half instant
into space and skies of colors i
have never dreamed.
For out of that of one unreal being
of the summer skies
blessed be the name of john
preceding the messiah
in a mason of water
to bless his friends
and strangers who did seek him
believing the word that the son of god
was to be the savior of the son of man.
the place in store the mason jar
is par a letter from heaven.
what is the capture.
the rapture. the capture.
capture the rapture.
become a moss eating snail
on a pearl encrusted clam.
the capture is of oxygen
when you resurface from the depths
of your imagination.
dancing on the surface
of the waves
hoping for more space than all
the spirals and clouds above head
falling from the board and the anchor
in hopes to fall out of love again
just to find it.
cloth with rivets. gray.
folded in an in-casual way
in now my soul on the table;
touching board with fibers
because God says good bye
so i can be the light on red embroidered
coaster cloth and cardboard.
the wall with imperfection covered
with my more armature artwork.
the backdrop of Miro pointing at a black and white
remembering his facial expression
my soul carries over to the sent from the open window.
and becomes succulent to the fresh air.
pierced by the sofa set in the carport
outside of my window.
beer and vodka.
splotches of board on table. black meshed with brown
scratches that water or other drink
to witness this corner i call next to when i sleep at night
on the fold out couch bed.
is what i was missing.
and its worth it.