Her Textile: 1987_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

"It is long, tedious work,"
She says, staring at the textile,
Searching for a flaw in the fabric.
Each dot fills her with awe
And she longs to share the whole thing
With the shivering world NOW!
"They need this autumnal weave
To lose the chill and cozy up a bit."
She hums to herself
And gnashes her teeth in concentration.
She won't sleep
Until her eyes start swimming
With dots and threads
And she knows she has done
All she can.

Chorus: 1990_Ink_Drawing7 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

We twenty one heads
Bend in the wind and
Give thanks for this day.
Thanks! Thanks! Thank you!
The sky is blue with wispy clouds
And the corn thrasher's paused
Giving us time here
Before its cold metal claws
Tear us up and send us off
Into the jaws of our working day.
We have eaten well,
The rain water was fresh
And it's nice to be surrounded
By family. So we give thanks! Oh, yes!

Headdress: 2003_Pastel3 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Thanks were given
And thanks received.
The headdress was passed
Down the rows of sober recipients
And placed on each head
As glasses were raised and toasts toasted.
The colors on cheeks flushed
And eyes shone with such sweet corn,
Such creamy pumpkin soup,
And the prospects of new worlds of friends.
I remember it well, the hopes
For peace, for freedom, for cohabitation,
And also the more important desire
To survive the harsh new winter.
They did us right, and we, well,
We tried, but we lost the headdress
And ran out of wine
And after the winter we thought we knew it all.

FilmHead Woman: 1983_Ink_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/18/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Her face contains
Multitudes of movies
Bent over the bones
Of her film holder face,
Hair spilling over
Like inky ideas gone haywire
And her skeleton
Stringy and open
To our view.
She walks
And walks
Through the hottest sun
And the rockiest peaks
With thin leather on her feet
And everything she owns
On her back.
Dream circles float
On her shoulders.
She is lucky to have Vision.
She is our Dream Vision Holder.
Her heart is beating
For all of our woes and hopes.
She walks on and on
For us,
Our female Christ,
Our Earth Mother,
Our own ideas of life.

Looking Down: 1978_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/17/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Looking down on her
We can see how close
She pulls someone
And how her shoulders slope,
Strong and wide.
Here head is bowed forward
To glance at the egg
Her child holds up.
She is worn out, but full,
Ready for another day.
And then finally the last day
Will creep up like a surprise party
She sensed was coming
And the dishes won't have been put away
But off she'll go.

Funny Moose: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing4

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

“I was just joking,”
Whined the bucktooth moose
As the rain-tears dripped down
Like two steady drums
Past his ears.
The Moose’s eyes crossed
And re-crossed themselves,
Superstitious by nature.
Something rumbled…
A belly laugh?
Was God weeping tears of mirth?
In those two rain-tear spots,
Up sprang two little moose rose plants.

Below The Surface: 1990_Ink_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I’m wondering what is growing
Below the surface;
Has the corn rooted?
Are the carrots healthy?
Has the soil been purified enough
To leave no trace of pesticide
Seeping through the potatoes?
I pat around the topsoil, curious,
Longing to shovel down
And discover their secrets.

Warm Place: 1992_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Poem by B.H.Russo

I was looking
For the kind of place
Where people touch you
And smile with that non-sexual,
"You are beautiful" vibe.
Down by the river walk,
At the old Irish Inn,
I found an old man singing ditties
About how gay used to mean happy
And telling stories about Dolly Parton's lovely lumps.
But the people danced
And smiled, and alone at my table,
I ate boiled potatoes an shrimp
In this Irish pub in Savannah
I was almost at the Kerrville folk festival
Staying up all night long
With my guitar and my favorite songs
And soft arms to catch me.
Yes, here I was, just listening and merging
With those happy, sloppy Irish-wanna-be souls.

Two Roses: 1984_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-6 Poem by BHR

I don’t need much.

Land
Sun
Moon
The big dipper
Two roses
A handful of seeds
A cave full of eggs
And a bridge to the sky.

That’s all I have
And all I could ever need.

Except sometimes
I think I might need you.

Mr. Potato Moon: 1979_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-5 Poem by B.H.Russo

Mr. Potato-Moon,
Inconsolable grump
Has his nose in the air
And in his throat – well – a lump.
He’s holding a stop sign
And swatting at flies
While the mountains get chilly
And the North Star flies.
I thought he’d be nicer
While shining his light
But no, he needs something –
A nap or some food
Or maybe a someone
To pat his puffed cheeks
And make him feel better
Til his eyes shine like leeks.

Thoughtful Chicken: 1978_Ink_Drawing8 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-4 Poem by B.H. Russo

This chicken just posed a question:
Do yesterday and tomorrow exist today?
She knows most roads of memory
Limp into the Ethernet of forgetting,
That corn husks are actually science books
Of instructions not meant to be rewritten,
She believes love is a selfish selflessness.
Yes, this chicken has even reminisced
On aboriginal art, the meaning of sex,
Mist falling upon Brigadoon,
And farmers’ vacant eyes
When they are about to prepare a chicken for market.
Her neck feels funny, but she says,
This is just one more experience
Before I die.

Vaginaharp: 2005_RedPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-3 Poem by B.H.Russo

“Alleluia,” sings the vaginaharp
With opened maw
Salivating and preparing
To sing the famous Mozart aria,
Ever so slightly out of her range.
Her glorious alto vibrations
Rumble through the cavernous room
And mess up the tuning
Of the ever-changing penisguitar.
“Oh let the bright seraph in,”
Counters the ever hopeful
Duet-seeking penisguitar.
“Can’t we make music together,
Though two stringed instruments we be?”
In the end, the strings get tangled
And the tune changes to “My Mamma Done Tole Me,”
But both are happy with the outcome
And decide to pursue slide guitar techniques
And gutteral street cries.

Floating Bottle: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-2 Poem by B.H.Russo

The bottle drifts
Over yellow seas
With its rabbit head lifted
Testing the wind
And its branch arms reaching
For the unreachable shore.
There’s a secret inside
Calling you
To shake off your passivity
And dive in! Dive in!

Umbrella: 2004_Pencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/05 Make-Up-1 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

They are both decked out
In their green, yellow, blue
With fine crosses and circles
And a regal to-do.
They will walk through the weather
Of strong sun or rain
And never feel bothered
Enough to complain.
It’s a joyous occasion
Each time they processes
With cloaks and umbrella
No matter the mess.
You know, I’ve never seen
Them stop or delay
Or miss out on walking
For even one day
And I’m sure I’d feel troubled
If ever there came
A day those two vanished
And left no one to walk in the rain.

SunDesert: 1989&91_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 make-up poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I'll meet you
Where the arches pass
Through the orange moon
And the desert weeds
Grow tall and proud,
Where the magic sled
Waits for us
To wake up
And crawl out of bed.
I'll meet you there
At 4am when the fairies whisper
Good night and good morning
To all who linger.

Witch: 1989_ColorPencil_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 but should have been 10/31/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

There she hangs, upside down
Like a dark kind of clown
With her long pointy nose
And her dark velvet clothes
But her eyes cross and strain
From the blank in her brain
Cuz she's almost forgotten
Which thing should be rotten
And she's tangled her lines
While her purplish vines -
They hold up her glass ball
Making sure it won't fall.
Still, she's dizzy and cross
And a bit at a loss
While she's stuck upside down
With no spell and no sound.

Chick: 1984&91_Odds&Ends1 by Carol Hershey

11/13/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like a little chick
Just discovering
The ground is rich
With things to pick at.
Oh, so many pieces
Of golden grain!
Oh, such a glorious discovery -
Each teeny crumb.

Radiator: 2000_Ink_on_ragpaper3SideB by Carol Hershey

11/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Radiators hissing
And the icy floors slowly spreading
With the warmth of a day beginning
Covers strewn about
Pajamaed buttocks pressed to the sizzling
Hot radiator in the dining room,
Gazing out the window at the fallen leaves,
Waiting for breakfast.
This is what I remember
Fondly about the chill of fall and winter
In our parents' house.
Now my radiators are no longer metal coils
But vents in the wall.
Still, they do the same job
And I hover in front of them
Like a child eagerly warming up
To the day.

Comet: 1990_Ink_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This is big!
Dazzling-lights big! Glowing-ferris-wheel-in-the-dark big!
Giant-meteor-burning-through-the-earth's-atmosphere big!
This is so big
That I hardly noticed it.
It's the-entire-galaxy-is-invisible-to-my-tiny-eye-but-I-know-it's-there big!
It's dream-come-true-when-you-didn't-even-realize-you-had-a-dream big!
Besides loving you
And loving my family
And loving your family
And loving the universe even when it gave me a bum leg,
I have a house!
Which means leaves to rake
Doors to stain
And walls that will contain
The next 30 years.
Or so my tiny brain believes.

Earthworm: 2002_B&W_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

11/10/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Earthworm with five faces
Grinning like a sweet-eyed granny
At the spotty, dirty, prettily packaged world,
I have my rake and my heap
Of damp leaves;
You keep tumbling, climbing, burrowing.
We are a perfect pair,
Me plunging into the earth
And you climbing up towards tales
Of butterflies.

Reclining Woman: 1984+_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/8/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

One day
I'll be a woman of leisure
Reclining on my fuzzy rug
Watching the tree leaves drift
Past the bushes and the porch
To land amongst the broken walnut shells.

One day
I'll have eliminated
The clicking of the clock
The ringing of the phone
The alarm buzzing
And there will be the sweetest silence
Of neighbors' dogs, the passing bus,
And your soft snore.

One day
I'll have all these boxes unpacked
And you'll find me with Ray Charles
And War and Peace
And on the stove will be the biggest pot
Of rice and beans, sausage and red chard.
I'll even have a free range chicken
In the fridge for tomorrow.

One day
Just like today.

Browns and Reds: 1983+_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I am moving
My stacks of resolutions
All in crisp binders,
My old dreams wrapped in crinkly tissue-paper,
My tomorrow plans scrawled
Over tiny post-its and huge poster paper,
And you,
Wrapped in the weary glow
Of "this will be glorious."

Where we're going,
All of these boxed up items
Will become soft, round, amazingly balanced
In a haze of browns and reds
And teardrop shaped rooms.

Where we're going is more than just
A house. It's a new way
Of saying "future". It's
My own mailbox, a porch, two trees,
A back yard, crickets, a leak,
And your kisses in my kitchen in between gigs.

Crazed Clown: 1991_ColorPencil1 by Carol Hershey

10/27/09_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like
a crazed clown:
bloodshot eyes,
brain waves screaming
AIIIIEEEEE!

I feel like
a ferris wheel
out of control
in a misty grey
sky while children
scream
MOOMMMYYYY!

I feel like
a red pen scraping
across a page
marking out a mouth
for such a frazzled
face. om.

Rocking Chair: 2002_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/27/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Moving
All of these boxes filled with poetry books,
Journals, college text books, music binders,
Dishes, towels, sheets, dresses smushed in,
And all of your old tapes,
I long to pare down to the elemental:
One painted rocking chair.
Imagine a house.
Shiny wooden floors.
Creamy white walls.
Sunlight.
And a rocking chair.
How lovely.
Instead, we will have boxes.
So many boxes to unpack
And fill those walls with our old
Clutter.

Bursting: 1995+_Pencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

10/25/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh, I'm gonna burst
Up and out and all over the place
With journal pages falling
Like rose petals and dandelion seeds
Softly through the air
And with legs like jack-in-the-box springs
And arms like tornadoes
Lifting everyone in my path
Up and away into my love!

Oh yeah, I'm gonna bounce
Ideas off of mountains and moons,
And Shakespeare verses off of giants
With rascally beards.

Big saggy blue chair.
Wind chimes in the distance.
Traffic street hum.
A light breeze.

Everywhere around me - boxes.
Boxes of clothes, boxes of books
Boxes waiting to be filled
With the items of my life's collection.

Me? I am not boxed in,
Shut down, covered up!
I am silently, motionlessly
Bursting.

Moose: 1987&91+_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/24/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Hills
Vales
Moose with googly blue eyes
Flowers
Caves
Blue grass, blue sky, blue rivers

The post office is made of clay
and begonias
The jail
is full of cushions and veils

Touch my sleeve
But don't wake me

Elephant Eye: 1986_WaterColor4 by Carol Hershey

10/23/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The elephant eye
Never blinks.
I am calmed
By its steadfast gaze,
It's multifaceted blue
And velvety brown skin,
So thick and so
Vulnerable.

Robot: 1984+_ColorPencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/22/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

"Bleep blip rasmatazle"
Says the messy bloink ickle robot.
"Eeeee oiiii urkle bleep blip!"
Translation:
"So much treasure!"
Says Ernie.
"Love this sippycup so much!"
"Brungle ricky rack proog?"
Asks the teeny tiny ant-rifkin.
"Shmooooogieferous!"

Wizard: 1980_Pencil_Drawing7 by Carol Hershey

10/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Inside of this cloaked wizard, this marriage
There are so many journeys to make
To find and protect that magic token
And save the whole body.
Luckily there are gnomes, fairies,
And all kinds of do-gooders
Willing and able to leave their jobs
And wander down endless roads,
Up jagged peeks, through torrential rivers,
Sacrificing for the good of the whole.
Oh, yes, the wizard-cloak-marriage
Has his hand on the glass ball
And he's cackling over the misfortunes
Of such tiny players. But
Little does he know
How strong they are, and how many
Will rise up in the name of love.

Fall: 1989_Ink_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/19/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Fall is tickling the air
And the four suns.
She laughs and laughs
At winter hearts.
Ha! Didn't you know?
Winter is on sabbatical.
The soil is eager for seed,
The grasses lift up their arms to dance
And the tear drops have soaked the earth.
Warm and wet, full of compost,
Fall is really pushing for a full-time job.
The boss comes in, wags a finger.
You won't be paid for these hours!
Fall shrugs and slooches off.
Ah well. Maybe next year.

Surrender: 1979_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

10/18/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Surrendering
To the flow of crimson
To the life ebbing and sweeping
Out of my body to join
The oceanic world;
Yes, surrendering
To the heaviness of my limbs
And the invisible hand reaching
Into my center to give it a twirl
Like a lettuce spin-dryer;
Surrendering to the waters,
To the waves and surges and soft ebbing
Of such a magnificent flow,
I am a woman alive in the world
Bleeding to death again.

Wind Storm: 1997_B&W_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/17/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Up, up and away, the ideas of change
Storm the sky with hugs and kisses
And swooping bouquets of ballooning love.
May these winds continue to billow
And these ideas never lose their x's and o's.
May change be something we see
And feel upon our summertime skin,
Even in the winter.
Yes, up, up, and there it is
So proud to declare:
There's a new way!

A what way?

A flower way! A shower way!
A motherly way! A fatherly way!
A helpful, natural, considerate way!
A gorgeously sparkling way!

What? Are we, like, um,
Trying to be the 60's all over again?

No. But it's a greener, organic,
Touch-your-neighbor-without-taking-off-
your-clothes-or-your-nose way,
A mature, kind of slow and sure way,
Well, an any-way-but-this-way kind of way.

Teardrops: 1989+ColorPencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/16/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

After almost a year
I have no visible tears
But my arms ache
Like teardrops falling towards your body
Which isn't there to catch them...
Falling through an interminable absence
Of hand on cheek.
This phone in my hand?
I was about to call you...
After all this time, I still almost believe
You will answer.

Night City: 2005_ColorPen_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/15/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

In the middle of the night
The palm fronds glow white,
Tear drops hang like balloons from stars,
And adobe houses shine orange and green and purple.
Eggs peek up in rows at the green hay
And dreams turn into x's and o's
And roll down the streets,
Filling up the drains with their red snoring.
This is my city, my normally gray, tall city,
Turned into a Florida party.
I met it tonight, after the 5th mosquito bite,
Swelling red and telling tales
Of secret swamps, alligators
And a bright white palm tree.

Perky Mat: 2001_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Peek-a-boo!

Imagine me curled up
On a perfect Sunday afternoon
In October, lovely, fresh, still-warm October,
Covered with the puffiest blue blanket,
About to fall asleep on my bamboo mat.

And imagine my ears
Hearing silence, curious silence
Free of guitar plucks, free of rewind, play,
Rewind, play, scribble, scribble.

Yes, imagine me peeking
With my bulging ear-eyes
Around corners, over furniture,
Right at you on the bed,
Happily, importantly typing away.

Later, in your panicked rush, you wondered
Where the time went
But I know. I saw,
Even in my sleep.

Peek-a-boo!

Soft Glow: 1998_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

So soft, the twilight glow
Over a busy town full of harvest.
You are sleepy and content
And I, tucked into my bed, am smiling
At your 38 year self.
We have it good. The hens are laying,
The cows produce milk, the sun shines,
And our bundle of love keeps growing,
Even after getting ripped open
By hungry birds.

Blue Mask: 2006_WaterColor5 by Carol Hershey

10/9/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I cannot speak, I cannot tell
Just what kind of personal hell
I'm drowning in, and yet, oh yes,
This oceanic surge of blue
It lifts me through this kelpy mess,
Reminds me how your heart is true
And oh, life loops and longs for YES.

Yes, yes, release, undress!

Oh dear, my eyes, they're bugging out
My mouth clamps shut while folklores sprout,
And oh, I so long to confess
My soul, sweet soul, it drips with beads
And blue, blue, so much blue
All pulling me back through the weeds to you.

Cosmic Creature: 1985+89_ColorPencil_Cosmic Creature by Carol Hershey

10/7/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Cosmic Creature

I have my skirts, my beads, my flounce
My antennas are combed, my face raised
And those brain waves, soul waves, creation juices
They are turned on, sizzling with peaks and valleys!
Call me cosmic gypsy creature,
Gyrating planetary thing,
Mystical insect reflecting the sky line,
Call me anything at all, but oh, I'm so glad
You always do call me.
My wires are ready to be crossed and tapped
And tickled by your life, by this crazy galaxy.
The stars are out like tarot cards.
I'll read them to you.
And you... oh... you are
So beautiful to me.
Jangle. Swirl. Om. Dip. Brush.

Magic Carpet: 2000_Ink_on_ragpaper3SideA by Carol Hershey

10/3/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Take me up and away,
Magic rug.
I don't know where to...
Maybe the stars, the planets?
They twinkle so. And oh,
I'd love to see Saturn up close.
Take me up and away
From this dusty floor
And my stomach always begging
For more, more, more.
Take me away from the freezer
Full of ice cream I love to scoop out
With potato chips... mmm.
Away from the piles of music and cards,
Away from my big warm bed.

Be my magic yoga mat rug
And we'll go up and away
Right here, right now
With the in and out of breath.
We'll see stars, we'll spin like moons.
And after we've gone just far enough
The sun salutation
Will bring us home.

Hanging: 2003_Ink_Drawing11 by Carol Hershey

10/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Sometimes I realize
All of my pretty dreams
And my even pulpier un-dreams
Are hanging by a thread.

Here I am, balancing
On the prettiest, littlest wire
While this little gem and that little bead
And those lovely weaves
Dangle from a golden stitch
That is oh, oh, so thin.

Amazing, how that thread holds!
Winds blow! Oh, they gust!
The wire sculpture sways.
It quivers and shivers in each thrust.

Amazing, how I remain
With at least one foot, or no,
One tiny toe planted
Upon the tinsel frame, the iron wreath
Of my pretty life.

Evening Ferris Wheel: 1986_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Evening shadows and tones
Shift and pull at our sleeves
As the ferris wheel lights up
And the we grin and yelp.
We are in the ride of a lifetime -
Life gently lifting us up
And setting us down,
Showing us the sunrise and sunset,
The black holes in our hearts
And the morning glories to wake us
In time for relief.

Smile: 1986+_Odds&Ends by Carol Hershey

9/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Aw. Look at that smile!
You're just glowing!
A healthy gray flush
Upon your murky cheeks
And your nose lit up like the sun!
If that ain't contentment,
I don't know what is!

In the morning, I wiggle and wag
And you gaze up at me with such a
Sleepy grin, such a content dream,
This morning version of you.

When I feel rotten
I grin like you do
Just to try it out
And find myself standing there
Grinning away my day.

Dream Catcher: 1977_Ink_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

9/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

My net is full of dreams:

Bent wire hangers turned into

Airplanes and necklaces

And cities and families.

These wire dreams keep turning

Into butterflies.

Up they fly, into the rainy sky,

Looking back for a quick nod of thanks

As they go off to live their own lives.

My net is full of dreams

That keep coming true

And escaping me.

Ooh, look!  This one's tangled

Into a full nest.

Red Dimension in Black: 2004_AcrylicOnPaper3 by Carol Hershey

9/27/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Life
Red, circular, glowing
Complex, with edges jutting up and ending
With circular pathways linked
To the heart

Life, alone and complete
Impossible to ignore
In the pitch black

The universe screeches solitude
But can not overwhelm
This incredible presence
This giant occurrence
This om shanti praise be to the all knowing
Creator
Who picked up a brush one day
And said, let there be life!

Yellow Peace: 1992+_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

9/26/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This one brings me peace

Look at the motion, the individualistic order
The lines, circles and swoops

I’m at home in yellows and whites,
Her delicate, steady way of letting lines touch hills

My heart wanders the squiggly lumps and valleys,
Eyes lingering longingly, restfully
As my soul sinks into the delicacies

Oh, how her gifted treasures to the world and herself
In lone meanderings of the mind
Bring peace

Pick Ax: 2004_B&Red_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

9/25/06_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With my pick ax
I strike out into that great unknown
Of blazing red suns
Cactuses, and forever doodles.
I dig into the rocks and pull out
Squiggly lines, vibrant circles, loops
And love.

With my pick ax
I am tearing the world apart
One quirky ink line at a time
While your memory blows around me:
Kisses that stick to my cheek
With softest care.

Mythic Sails: 2003_Ink_Drawing10 by Carol Hershey

9/24/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

In the sky
Mythic sails and magical wind chimes
Stir in the wind:
Sacred gusts of whistling, bellowing.
Oh, the moon is full and my trinkets are dear to me.
This night I feel sure Helen of Troy
Is out and about, jangling her bracelets.
All the men are mysteriously compelled to wander
Towards the center of the universe
Where the sails bellow and blow
In mythic flashes of white, compelling us all
To journey forth.

So Red: 2007_MixedMedia1 by Carol Hershey

9/23/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With painting, red can be so many things
It can be what life is, what it was, what it shall become.
It can be blood smeared, vibrancy or snowflake delicate.
There are such indescribable complexities
Explained through the way red
Shows a bit of white, and then dissembles
Into orange.

With poetry, it's hard to make much of red.
Until red is describing Was, who's underneath Is
While Is is squirming to hold Was down and away
From some indescribable pleasure,
Some potential Will Be.

Imagine this whole poem
In shades of red
With owl glass circles
Looping through
The red was is will be.

Eye of Needle: 1986+_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

9/22/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh, let me pass through
The eye of the needle
While it blazes with orange light.

Let me leave behind my body,
My jealousy, my items of possession
And become part of the blue, swirling
Consciousness, soul enlightened,
And kind.

I remember to be kind
When I’m alone, thinking back,
But how can I purify myself?

Let me jump through hoops, let me
Pass through the eye of the needle
And become truer than I am.

Let me be you, me, everyone
And no one at all,
And let it do the world good.

Stain Glass: 1975_WaterColor1_Back by Carol Hershey

9/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I keep forgetting
To take in the stain glass city.
Instead, I see blackness everywhere
And doubt, and imperfection.
Well, when I look at the stain glass city,
I remember that glorious imperfections exist
In the arches and lines and colors and windows stained
Multi-browns, changing blues,
And calm selections of prayers.
I just keep forgetting.
I'm sorry.