French kisses in Scotland
Doug
Wet floor
My hair is wet too
Hot pink circles like joy around me
Greeting me first thing
I see hello
A word like a French kiss
Daily bread
A painted hanging board
Slathered with sensuous
Opening me into a light room with soft voices
Breezy white curtains hiding
Your space from the married man
In the other room
I spoke with her who belongs to him
Next door
Mistaking her briefly
For you, not knowing
Me the Masia warrior
While you wear the red beads of passion
We speak of our stuff, the stuff we work with, through
In art , life , love
And it comes through in spite of stuff
The otherness of us
And you standing so close
We could dance or fall
Should I say a word
And who battered your heart
With its secret desires
So out there on the wall
I wish I could own those
They are mine
I steal those
A young blonde haired
Raggedy
Man in dirty army pants
Limping across Mission Street
Talking out loud
To no one in particular
And the universe
listens
Access: Public
art
August 2008 
Images painted in words…
Beautiful, moving. “Hello” will never be the same for me…
Thank you Rudyan and Aley!
Last night I went to some art openings in SF of a couple of friends. I fell in love with a woman's work that I didn't know before last night. Her work is very sensuous, right out there, heart on her sleeve, so unlike me.
Pouring and splurging with the allness of all art.
Thank You Kathy, drinking it in like cooling water and I pray for rain for SoCAL.
My battered heart of desire holds these words dear.
Thank you Janet! And I see you put your lovely secret desires out on the wall also.