For My Dad
Wires and tubes dangle over the side of your bed, landing on the floor, where microphone cables and tube amps once did.
A new life support system, instead of music which brought you joy. The only thing besides my sister an me that ever did, is what you once told me.
Once a child prodigy drummer, asked to tour at the age of 15, later a marathon runner; now a baby bird who is dependent on others to accomplish even the most basic self-care tasks.
You lay there.
We used to joke around and talk for hours, now there are mumbles where your words used to comfort me, I am left to my sister's translation, over 3,000 miles away.
Just yesterday, you asked me, "When are you coming?", and then you asked me another question.
You asked me a question, that signifies to me that even now, even while you are dying in that bed, that you are still supportive of my art.
You asked me, "Are you going to make me a picture?" That's what you used to say to me, to encourage me to continue to draw, to paint, to photograph, to make art.
Somehow, you knew, and you still know, how important creating art is to me. I think you know this because this is the relationship you once had with music.
And, I hear mom get angry with you for giving up, and I used to be angry too, and I don't blame you for not fighting now.
And you lay there.
A new life support system, instead of music which brought you joy. The only thing besides my sister an me that ever did, is what you once told me.
Once a child prodigy drummer, asked to tour at the age of 15, later a marathon runner; now a baby bird who is dependent on others to accomplish even the most basic self-care tasks.
You lay there.
We used to joke around and talk for hours, now there are mumbles where your words used to comfort me, I am left to my sister's translation, over 3,000 miles away.
Just yesterday, you asked me, "When are you coming?", and then you asked me another question.
You asked me a question, that signifies to me that even now, even while you are dying in that bed, that you are still supportive of my art.
You asked me, "Are you going to make me a picture?" That's what you used to say to me, to encourage me to continue to draw, to paint, to photograph, to make art.
Somehow, you knew, and you still know, how important creating art is to me. I think you know this because this is the relationship you once had with music.
And, I hear mom get angry with you for giving up, and I used to be angry too, and I don't blame you for not fighting now.
And you lay there.
On the Airplane - 11/10/2009
Clouds like icebergs, cliffs, and ships in the sunset
Flat, sharp clouds with the sun on the horizon, so bright
it blinds me as I sketch
White and gray low pressure reflects the orange glare
Two mile visibility below, but here feels infinite
Until we begin to descend, a wall of gray envelops us
and I am reminded of campfires and barbecues, as the scent
of smoke meets my nose, a blending of childhood memories of
my father's cooking, and the reality of an airplane ride
through the tail end of a tropical storm.
Flat, sharp clouds with the sun on the horizon, so bright
it blinds me as I sketch
White and gray low pressure reflects the orange glare
Two mile visibility below, but here feels infinite
Until we begin to descend, a wall of gray envelops us
and I am reminded of campfires and barbecues, as the scent
of smoke meets my nose, a blending of childhood memories of
my father's cooking, and the reality of an airplane ride
through the tail end of a tropical storm.
2/2011
He is the reason I am an artist art
the reason I photograph
the reason I moved to San Francisco
the reason I survived my childhood
the reason I'm in grad school
He asked me to make him a picture
And then he died
He is the reason I am an artist art
the reason I photograph
the reason I moved to San Francisco
the reason I survived my childhood
the reason I'm in grad school
He asked me to make him a picture
And then he died
