10 inches x 12 inches, collage, mixed media on paper.

2009 , Seattle.

at home.

Pallas by Matika Wilbur.

back, half-back from the most beautiful village on earth.
, as says Paul.
just back from Nulato, Alaska, where I was for the memorial
of Josephine Mountain, mother of my friend Paul Mountain by whom I was invited.

These pictures are not sale. No reproduction authorized.

These pictures are not sale.No reproduction authorized.

Disasters,
glow,
beautiful fires
in the dark.
One sun,
one moon,
one man,
you order me to stay on the periphery,
of your eyebrows:
lungs could be the wings of the heart,
clapping are they like headphones,
they beat drums on your inside
and you sigh.
You bruise everything you look at.
Have you recorded all the events you have witnessed?
wind in the branches,
birds cackling,
and shaking our thoughts,
by flapping wings.
No one has heard the noise of,
tiptoes on ice,
no one prays on sinking ships.
You battle strongly,
why not let go?
I hang on to the idea of some nipples.
The heart pains at recognizing its true self and desire.
The signs have lost clarity,
bright is the night,
and the stars shine as a thousand suns at midday.
You lost track of the thought.
The stones you carry,
hold you down,
till you drop them in some unkown abyss.
Abyss of the heart,
stones like plums.
Stones cannot rot,
you think,
as they disintegrate
in the wind.

Seattle, February 2007.

She lies on the grave of her love,
nothing left but a few ashes,
something stares,
through the pine trees,
comme des sardines,
shinning waters,
ecailles d’argent a la surface
of your eyes.
How long waiting,
face the sea,
facing mirrors,
the black holes;
hilled lands,
in caves of water.
Still are the leaves,
on stand by.
More grounds shake
and trembling clouds dance around us,
fetch buckets and spades,
castles of you,
fill the Skies.

Digital Print, 25 x 65 Inches.

60 x 72 inches, Acrylic on canvas.