Drums Beat in My New World

It’s one of those days you know, when things are changing. Like the day on the dock at Artica, when my son’s clear eyes began to understand, how I saw he started recording. Next to Head of Buffalo someone fashioned out of old things, the wise man told us that this was a new day, a new life. Each moment we breathe out the past world and breathe in the new. Breathe in, breathe out. Can you feel it? Listen. The tattered tents fluttered in the wind. Release the newspaper dinghies! It is here.

At 6p.m. I attend the grand opening party of my good friends’ Print Studio + Art Gallery, and outside a storm is raging. The breadth and span of art that this evening opens up to me is whipping through my hair. Will this be the night my seven-story pine falls? It has been dead for a decade.

Life is good to me and I am pleased. I pray this be the beginning for my dear friends, and an ascent out of times gone by.