redmess

one of my last mornings in albuquerque was spent modeling at my painter friend Henry's studio. we were set up on the patio, me nude in a busted old sitting chair. henry, crazy apache, visionary painter with lines and color like matisse, sipping magic mushroom-infused green tea, blue corn growing tall-stalked under late summer sun, a white rabbit in the yard, peering out of his red-washed, wooden hutch. flies buzzing around freshly cut flesh of watermelon, the smell as intoxicating as the sunshine. shadows cast down by the junipers, pinon, and elm trees. a little spider, glowing white green crosses my thigh.

and from the turntable inside, the sounds of les paul and mary ford circa 1953 find their way outside to join us.




and last night, walking my pug in the catskills, down sleepy, winding lanes, overlooked by the setting sun-kissed hills where rip van winkle was seduced by slumber, i spied that same spider that i thought i'd left behind in the desert. i was creeping along the creek bed, gathering moss and succulents to take back to the house to pot. there he was, glowing pale greenwhite against a black rock. good luck finds me even here.