Every Edition

The day began not with the sun but with a croquette filled with pink whipped cream. There was light and it broke the clouds. The Giant pastry beckoned you. You packed your camera and pulled on your black strappy shoes. Your necklace was like a snake around your shoulders. All the furry creatures of the house tried to leave with you. They knew the adventure would be an extraordinary one.
Outside you noticed all things were in black and white. You checked your glasses, the yellow rimmed ones. You fished in your purse for another pair with red rims. Same thing. You took your glasses off, blew on them, cleaned them off on our scarf, and the world was still in black and white.
You watched two crows turn on a branch. They spoke to you. They screamed into the morning. They turned from the blackest black to the whitest white. One turned into a dove.

You walked into the mountains and on the trail ahead a woman came. She was brunette, head to toe in the flashiest of pink. Her garments were pink tulle that dragged fifteen feet behind her. She carried an enormous light filled door knob which reminded you of one of your favorite photographs. She held the knob out to you and blew the scent of spring your way.
You thought to make a wish and suddenly you were standing outside a hovel on a street, a nook, a cranny in the wall. You were standing beneath a sign and it read, We Have Every Edition of Every Book in Every Language Ever Published.
When you went inside Django was working the cash register, he smiled and said “How good of you to come.” Calvin and Hobbes were sipping coffee at a corner table. They waved you over to a vacant seat. You stood in the door dumbfounded. You saw a giant golden lab you recognized. He smiled at you and carried on a conversation with a rather gorgeous woman who looked strikingly like the one with the doorknob. You noticed some hens down a central row of books carrying on in lively conversation with a dashing raccoon.
A voice from a couch called to you. It wasn’t loud or soft, it wasn’t demanding or reserved. It simply said your name and you went to it and you sat down and had a nice hot cup of tea. I was there, too. I was appreciating the wish you made, what a fine fine establishment it was.

The Performance

The empty auditorium had a hush like the sound of a hornet’s nest in winter. The one I remember bringing into the house long ago. It had been delicate like a thousand layers of rice paper, layers that wisped off into the air. The wind chilled my face and my hands were red as roses. I watched those bits fly. I ran the nest back home. It had lines like tree rings. It was oblong like a deformed football. I found it in the woods and hung it on the wall. I dreamt of bees flying and awoke to notice the nest was alive. All those hibernating hornets were warmed by the central air system and my breath.
The auditorium sounded like that nest under the tree in the woods. The piano glistened like dew on the garden in spring. You knew it meant something would blossom here. You went to the piano so slowly I didn’t think you were moving but the aisles receded behind you.
I could see you were nervous. I told you don’t worry, the audience will be here. You said you wanted a particular group. I asked what you were looking for. You said you could only perform for those that understood you.
Our dressing room was just an RV out back. I told you I would give you a head massage by moonlight so you could relax.
The crowd came while we counted the shooting stars. They came in their rags and their horns. They came in pairs and droves. They brought you flowers wrapped in belts and watches wrapped on cactus.
You played a thousand songs, until your claws bled. Until all the buffalo were sleeping. Your range was home.

A Card For Debo

The Archer Arjuna had great admiration for her teacher, Drona. Archers share a power and grace that bind them to each other. A student Archer will be shown her gifts, no one can tell her who she is. All great teachers live as students.
In the Mahabharata, the longest sanskrit epic ever written at 18 books, 74,000 versus and 1.8 million words, there is a time when the greatest Archer, Drona, places an illusionary crocodile in his students' path. Arjuna doesn't miss a beat. He carefully aims his arrow and kills the crocodile as it attacks his teacher.

The Thinker, sculpted by Rodin, was meant to represent Dante at the Gates of Hell in his epic poem The Divine Comedies. Here, Arjuna aims fire at him.
The young Archer wants to free herself of her own inner turmoil. She is poised to use her magic in a destructive way. When you open the card you see Drona, dancing across the dawn with the dark unknown. Drona helps Arjuna understand that the sorcery they share enables them to be masters of their own will.

This card is about epic poetry that never dies. And this card is about artists. Writers and Sculptors have taken the stories of life and put them into word and stone. Sharing them always. This card is to thank Debo for everything she has shared with me.