Cherry blossoms reach skyward
Reishi stands firm
Holds to the earth
Woody
Blue eggs of
Leaping Americaner hen
Cracked open
(Breakfast is in my tummy)
By Anne
by Eloise
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Our three-line poems
Squirrel nest Falling nuts Noticing Warm rain Slippery mud Going in Water tower Climbing and sweating Crunching feet Puffy cotton clouds Moving shadows Changing Puffy cotton clouds Moving shadows Shifting feel on skin Puffy cotton clouds Moving shadows Goosebumps Swaying branches Grey snow Dancing galoshes Boundless outer space Deep valley opening wide National Parks
my freewrite: When I make a line I have to be present in my body. I have to remember to keep my feet on the floor - and I am very prone to squirming. I have to keep the brush vertical and my wrist cocked. I have to rotate gently while keeping the line straight - and to feel that I am moving from my core, rather than from my head. I have to exercise gentleness and precision in order to get the rounded-edge at the beginning, 'folding over the laundry' gently so that my brush doesn't end up flattened into two factions of threads. I have to remember not to hold my breath. If I fail at any of these things, I have to let it go and continue on with the process. When I make a line the line becomes the evidence of my existence. The whole world dims and it's just me and the brush and the page. -Katie
Just wonderful and alive - love the drops and splatters - drawing with the brush - the elements in good relation with each other - cracked open and inside at the end . . . !
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