Spirit Cloth

why

tears are protrusions.

poem for a monday at the end of february:

an eye

can cry

without knowing why.

sigh.

cloth looking back

I am sitting with larger cloth. coma. coma has many eyes. i think about stillness, the kind that can't speak. at least the kind we can't hear. or utter.  the voice of eyes is another language. 

like stitch. there is a scream in here.

a gift

isn't this beautiful?

thank you.

just looking

looking is a big part of making.

sunshine

the little solstice cloth is complete. it reminds me of so many things. 

the sun is the eye of winter i think.

the rains have come  and i feel spring in my bones.

this cloth reminds me of dad.  i remember his last words as...life is beautiful.  he loved to just walk the beach on a sunny day.  with the sun on his back.  that was his goal.  this is his favorite song.  and although it was never mine, nowadays it always makes me cry.

 

this cloth will stay here with me. it will seed my dream catcher series and the beginning of not selling.  big cloth that will start very small.