Blind Date Show

 Last night was the opening of Blind Date the Third at Translations Gallery, 331 Cleveland St. NW in Canton, OH.
Fabulous!
What a gathering of diverse artists and writers, from 14 states, no less.
Prints, paintings, photographs, assemblage, collage, art quilts.
One side of the gallery was selected art that the writers were assigned to write about. The other side of the gallery was art made about an assigned writing.

I was lucky to receive a piece of writing from Julie Winters. That inspired my piece Mom G. She is with me on the right above, below is her writing. Hopefully she does not mind that I am making this writing public. The show runs till May 30. Thanks Craig for the invitation to participate!

To Have and To Hold

Two full refrigerators and a freezer,

and cabinet shelves bowed with cans of food,

pinholes in pasta boxes from whatever bored out, or in,

jarred olives shriveling above their half-volume of brine.

Furniture and mementos

jam bedrooms long deserted;

old suits hang waiting to be worn

to a job retired from years ago. Then,

the worst one could say

was that the house was perhaps tacky,

but that was before

three bouts of cancer,

two arterial stents,

pinched nerves,

carpal tunnel syndrome,

urinary tract infections,

reflux,

pneumonias,

incontinence.

Medicine bottles stack and spread

over three rooms, and every room

hosts a chaotic mix

of bills,

insurance papers,

coupons,

magazines,

newspapers,

candy wrappers,

used paper plates,

bags of chips opened and forgotten,

whatever the dogs tracked in

along the permanent smudge

of dirt and oil from their coats.

His hands, once brown and strong,

are pale and unsure, and she

is long past tired.

The house is filled,

but there is want in every corner:

I want to mow the lawn again,

the hot grass smell rising around me;

I want to drive, to know where the road leads,

or to choose not to care.

I want to dance, sparkling,

feel you guide me, glide me around the room.

I want to be free.