It’s Sunday morning in California. Dreamtime while I am awake to the possibilities of those unimaginable events that slide in and out of my imagination. The movies of the mind. Nothing has to make sense. In fact, sense gets in the way of time and space and spaceless time and timeless space.
I’m composing an Opera called “ShadowLight.” It’s about the African American painter, Beauford Delaney who became well known in New York in the 1950’s and died in Paris in the late 1970’s.
My mind moves in and out of this time and space. It is the stuff of dreams.
A collage from my journal. The stuff of nightmares!
PARIS POETRY 