#18 Some light fun

Evolutionary shadow story told by Dan's hands. 

Defiance

something so heavy shouldn't fly 

and something so heavy shouldn't float

but somehow they always get by 

so a heart this heavy,

this full and this wild

can continue one more round, one more pump.

step up to then plate, take the next turn and

smile at the wind or

if not that face than a neighbor's

or just smile at a mirror

and love what you see

because your defying physics and a little bit of nature

each and every day.

#17 Penguin Salute

The tiniest "puppets" yet, hand painted wooden penguins measuring at around a half inch across. Soon to be adhered to some cufflink backs for Miguel. Their icy backdrop is my homemade cufflink packaging. Thank you to the super nice lady at the bead shop today.

Silence

White noise and waves

crashing into weather smoothed rocks and 

crunched seashells like

a child gleefully tipping a bucket

filled to the brim with beads

and letting them jostle each other 

tumbling down a hill with with tiny

splashes diving into a puddle in the gutter

the ripples growing into mini waves themselves

blurring more noise into the general buzz of the world

like the click of the keys on the computer

when the hands fly across its keys, 

hands that in the glow of the screen look

exactly like my mother's and her mother's

every vein sticking out in the exact same pattern

but pause at the end of a line

and watch the puddle go still

and settle

"The only truth there is,

is silence" 

so take me in your arms 

silence your mind and 

steady your heart so

we can find the truth

about us

#16 Tea and sympathy

I just want some tea. Thankfully school is finally settling down so having tea and making puppets can resume. This guy is made of some left over clay, tin foil, beads and his penny is the tab from a box of macaroni. I think he vaguely resembles Chris Sickles, who recently visited our school and is a great inspiration to all makers of things. Thank you to Kayla for giving me the clay. 

Catch

Quiet but sharp like the 

sphinx who sits on its haunches to

ponder the world that

spins

out of control like a marble in a hurricane

the dream catcher perches at the head of my bed

to capture the strife that drifts through my head.

It filters the negative 

like a purifier in a fridge then

freezes them in its web

allowing me to sleep on 

the softness of the feather fringe

and the warmth of the Egypt sand.

*objectivism? for Karen:) 

#15 Post marked

This ones a public collage made today, not quite a puppet but soon to inspire one. Thank you to the united states postal system, without you some very important documents would not of been postmarked and sent today.

Mirror Mirror

I want to know whoever first told you

your beauty could be measured in a lousy 

piece of glass

written in crayon above the mirror in my dorm room,

a statement i wish could procreate, multiply

and take over each mirror in turn until

each beveled piece of glass 

one by one

like the general marching his troops over some

green land while it sleeps

so when it wakes it's

suddenly changed.

Because you are beautiful

and no reflection does you justice.

A reflection only hopes to be you one day

but right now it can't,

it distorts slightly, slightly again, and one more time 

until your image is altered in your own mind

But baby girls, hold on to the image i see

Let me paint you a picture with my words

so you can see in your own mind's eye

that you are

breathtaking. 

#14 Father, Son and Holy spirit of bad decisions

I'll be the first to say it, this is a weird one, but it's just what came to mind.  Thank you to the friendly cashier. You work at what is probably one of the shittiest 24 hour mcdonalds locations in the united states and you were totally civil to all those assholes ahead of me. 

A Toast to Heritage

An Irish emblem weighs against my breastbone,

a small comfort of generations and a reminder

of strength and values always

there to support me

with the force of Irish tea coursing through 

my veins and the Guinness coursing through

my father's and his.

The small circle of metal leads to 

A map of Ireland created by the freckles all over my

face and my hair

burns red in the sun

daring the world to awaken the 

Irish temper pent up carefully inside.

The Celtic cross sleeps against my chest as

I sit in a church pew for the tradition of it,

just to keep some religion in my soul and remain connected to 

all the other skeptical Irish doing the same.

The Irish are supposed to have control over the spoken language,

spinning yarns out of threads and

piecing together rains of thoughts as green as their fields,

but have no concept of expressing emotions.

Borrowing songs and stories to reflect 

the inside it seems, hiding beneath the proud,

look the other way exterior and teaching

through heroes and legends

They tell these tales in a borrowed language they can't give back,

the English forcing Irish from schools and 

anglicizing it into Gaelic for the world,

this being a lesser of the anglican problems 

plaguing 

the country with rules, repression, rebellion,

in their past.

But from it, a flag with a color for unity

rose to wave over a divided island

 and when an orange shamrock

makes me incredibly angry,

or when I celebrate the Easter Rising 

while most can't tell the date from another day

i know this Irish heart beats as 

wildly as my rain curled hair tangles

and that mine is a past of

neart agus áilleacht 

(strength and beauty)

 paisean agus faisnéis

(passion and intelligence)

 agus grá na hÉireann

(and a love of Ireland)

that will never leave me

and that I will never let die.

#13 Black Friday Gals

Had a blast with this one, the heads are beads that were found and not made by me. The body is made of two sticks that made this awesome spine curve. The turtleneck and sassy boots are both made of tape. Thanks to Sarah for taking me out on thanksgiving. 

The Beginning of Finals

curled up in a giant arm chair 

like crinkled, crumpled notes

waiting to be studied and decoded

but worn thin with 

the thought.

Curled up in a giant armchair

with mint tea singing the promise of

relaxation and home

for the holidays.

Move one way and the notes crunch violently

yelling to be looked at,

 move the other and they sing a round 

trying to worm their way into your head and

never

never

never

be forgotten or pushed aside.

Studying for finals

whispered in a library (open 24 hours)

sends students diving beneath tables

and throwing up barricades of books to cover the 

trenches and chugging coffee and 

pulling on sweats 

putting on determined faces and stuffing shopping baskets

with poptarts and gatorade.

Curled up in an unusually large armchair.

Putting on the face of a general

Beginning the war.

*good luck everyone!!

#12 Dreams

 

Well these are clearly not puppets in the traditional sense. They are dream catchers, but they do have a sense of mobility and they were hand crafted so I think they qualify.  Thank you to Annie and conscious kinetics club for hosting craft night, how bout that dream catcher on the 66?? Because people definitely sleep there.

The imprint of my head

against my warm, cloud soft pillow

a perfect shape yelling for me to stay.

so hard to crawl from my bed this morning

battling the never ending

internal struggle to lay back

into the perfect mold 

and hide there 

in its embrace for the day.

The meaning of life is getting up each morning

because it's just time to do so

i once said, the meaning of life

is dissatisfaction he said

getting up to make the day better than the 

precedent.

But today, right now

Cold air whistles through the ever cracked window

a high pitched twinkle voice

of a fairy of sleep 

casting the spell of cool air over my cheeks,

it feels so good when falling asleep

but it locks you in the cage of the bed 

come morning. Immobilizing me under a mound of quilts

their colors still blurry in my state of semiconsciousness.

Ten more minutes please.

Please?