taking dictation

Sunday morning I woke early with the inclination to set out on a brand new journey – one I’ve considered 10,000 times. Less food. Less talk. More art – art as a vast neighborhood. I packed some of Saturday in the pre-dawn, ready-to-journey napsack – mostly, forever lead with kindness, wherever, when hither and thither. And, to rejoice in the hypnotic (ancient) pull of a distant, yearning train whistle. A chord of close notes, just those then and there molecules of the morning air pushed around. Asking, “Guess where I’m going. Guess where I’ve been.”

Charcoal drawings. Crayons. A new ‘art journal’. Seventeen empty canvases – calling, calling. Less food. Less talk. Get busy. Please.