Hands Of Old

This lady of the Basque, Andramari, came out of left field for me this week. I wrote the poem decades ago and she decided she wanted to be painted five days ago.  

'Andramari' (4'x3'2) 

'Andramari' (4'x3'2) 

She encompasses Justice, Water, Sorcery, and Divination, and punishes liars and thieves. 


•Hands of Old•

Remember all the ones you carry

that one for kindness, another for learning

one for caring, for giving, for feeding

for thanking

for burning.

All those hands you have worn in other times and places.

All those hands you will wear in other times and places.

Dare on,

for you never walk alone.


Illustrated Poem for LUNA ARCANA Magazine

A new publication for this old Californian Desert.  

Photo by Editor-in-Chief Rohini Walker

Photo by Editor-in-Chief Rohini Walker



Naked skin across the dunes and all you can see are the snakes waiting, your eyes wide open still cannot reach that far behind the rocks. 

Prickle heat crawling up your legs. 

Cannot move

Will not move

The straw hats have long ago shredded your thoughts, still attached. 

Lay there imagining waters so blue and shiny, to drown the crickets. But they get louder and the magic refuses to happen. 

'Where to?'  I hear

'Stand still... Take me where I can stand still".  



I thought I would introduce my ways of poetry with a vignette. My words are uncomplicated and automatic. Short stories and poems mainly, 20 years later I have compiled around 200 pages of poems in a book titled 'Fear the Poet', which will be available soon.


These are my daily charms. Verses from Neruda seem to always sneak through my daily crevices. There are a couple of bracelets, one given to me by my family a few yules ago, made with Mauritanian stone beads, which I had as a necklace I never took off as a kid. What I love about those is that no matter how (if) you crack them, the inside follows the outside pattern throughout. It's not just little ripples, it's bright coloured full circles, stars, rhomboids and dots and parallel lines, all perfectly made by nature, which sort of explains how I see inside my head.

The other bracelet was given to me by a friend of mine I very much admire, the brains behind Soze Gallery in dtLA, the bracelet is by Onyx and Chains and everytime I glance over to check my non existing watch, it reminds me that it is 'Time to Shine', as her saying goes. A green beetle in my pocket, allegory to the Heart chakra and my link to California. His & Hers 'soulmate' rings and my golden double necklace holding a sparrow, a clock marking 10 minutes to 2 and a feather. The latter for the pagan/native-American beliefs of connection to the skies, the spiritual plane, the sparrow as a homage to the first poet (Gustavo Adolfo Becquer) that got through to me (at 13) and saved me from 'undying love'. The poem rang true because I could see sparrows out of my bedroom window and his opening line referred to how they would return year after year. Glad I was only a teenager for only a few months. And finally, the clock. It points exactly my time of birth, which was 5 full days later than expected.

And down the rabbit hole and forevermore, 'I shall be too late!