The Twisted Trip to here......

We tripped over tree roots....Their sprawling, snaking, climbing age old fingers pointing into  the woods...
and stumbled one step, two steps deeper into the peace...
Just the sound of water bubbling, running, falling...
and sticks breaking under our steps....


I breathe differently now....deep...and slow and on purpose....

Because every moment matters....

And in the midst of insane chaos....
my body a war field...
my mind on fire....

I feel the presence of the reason.... I can't name it, touch it, explain it....but I know somehow, I was meant to come here...
to fall,...
to tumble....
blindly
into this crazy 
wrecking ball...

It must be the butterflies....

Spirit Finder

I rode my bike in dusty circles,
sliding on loose gravel,
watching the pebbles fly and skip,
imagining them to be butterflies....
plunking,
hopping,
little winged frogs...... waiting to be free....
And
I listened to you ramble on.....and on...

"Do you want to go Blues Night?,
to a steakhouse?,
on a supply run?,
to the Beach?,
do you want to go anywhere anyone has ever named?"
And
I don't.....

I slammed on the brakes
and twisted just far enough to the left
to show off....
and slide...
and slip off...
and almost crash
until I laughed....

And started to ride again...
into the wind...
and around the corner,
and almost to the river
and back again....

And I grabbed my little pink fishing pole,
and a beer and some velveeta cheese
and
plopped down at the River....
to hook a lilly pad,
a pile of drunken peace signs and waves from a passing pontoon,
and a nod from the captain of a cigarette boat on idle....

Because this is why I came here...

For peace....

and my spirit....

And I've found it...

And We Painted the sky......

They dipped the socks into the paintbucket,
pudgy little fingers stirring wildly with
the spirit stick....
Making mud the color of a thousand eyes....
And
when we flipped the bucket upside down and a dozen psychedelic snakes slipped out....
Their laughter rocked my world.

And I knew.... 
This is the music the God's listen to....

The Sky and the clothesline on a sweet Summer evening, tye dying  with little ones at the river.....

RIP Rumors

I drive by in the dusty five o'clock traffic and I don't see the sign...feel the vibe...hear the loudness of the forever quietness, but something snatches a knot in my soul....
and I feel it....
the empty parking lot ....
the now and forever..
the endings of our fancy little bar stories....

I fell in love here...
in knee high boots dancing to Eric Clapton,
blowing balletic smoke rings from filtered cigarettes....
and believing in fairy tales....
and the twang of a lover's make believe serenade....

I broke an ankle here...
jumping jack flash fast to the Rolling Stones,
and smiling
on the downslide...

I  buried a friend here...
Hugging strangers, and selling laughter for dollar donations to bury her in decent blankets and eulogies that  dance on...

I believed here...

And I still believe....
   in the music...
   the moment...
   the magic...
   the magpie fairies...

      It's just that the train has changed tracks...

Can you see me now?

Clink....
You're standing on my doorstep...
January rain dripping down your nose...
And I'm
almost surprised,
and not at all,
at your totally o~kay~ness with just parachuting right back into my world
unexpected and
half a dozen years older.......
I offer you coffee and you'd rather a beer....
and I know then what I knew all along....

You're more fun after 5 o'clock....
And in my imagination....

But, I see you now.....

Words and artwork (C) Singleton

Spooky little Blues Cruise

We drifted....teetering a little to the left, a little upstream, or maybe down, and thicker into the Swamp.  Eyeballs everywhere.  Giant beak nosed vultures, 1000 years old I'm sure, sat perched at Sentinel Guard, staring down at us....Waiting.  Their beady little eyes darting.  Giving us the once over, in case we suddenly became just stiff enough to gobble up. 

The banks of this river breathe....and in the quiet...an impromptu drum circle begins....twigs snapping in rhythm, the footsteps of faieries or Big Foot, I'm not sure,  dancing....in the forest...the laughter of strangers deep in the woods, the low and thunderous groan of the Gator King....his rheumy eyes cast low, and his crooked smile....slurping up the tepid still waters...waiting...

We turn up the radio, just a little bit, Luther Vandross for the soul....

And still, we can hear the banjo's....

Coffee with one sugar and all my Dreams

It's early morning....
and the sky sits low,
crawling just above the ground...
gray and damp,
wheezing like an old dog
curled on his muddy backdoor  rug....

And yet, it's delightful.  Something about it is Old Soul.  Comfortable.  Familiar.

The Blue skies of tomorrow are being painted in a secret room above the clouds, and the wild winds of yesterday are parked in the corner....hung over from their willful misbehaviour last night.

Today is Peace.

I park my crickety old self on the park bench and sip coffee in the quiet just outside my door.  I breathe better here....

Under the simple skies....

Words and artwork (c) Singleton 2013 Coffee table courtesty of Merle, green and splattered in machine oil.... just waiting for me to tattoo the spirit of the river smack on it's ruddy surface:)  Thank you, new friend!

The Porch Party and other floating fairytales

I peek out the little aluminum door at sunrise....watch for wayward wild animals, slithering snakes, strangers....and then barrel out into the morning... Two black pups...nose to the ground....send me flying past curtain number one, two, three..... of fog, leaping over little foothills, make believe bridges, potholes...and into the damp darkness of morning on the river.... To Paradise.... To the sun rising over the muddy water.... To the lazy ripple of old water stretching, rolling over one more time before it has to rise.... And then finally, home again... To This... To Peace Porch and the promise of another Day....