Artistic Creation

Seasons

Candid Corvid Productions

Summer is almost
Over as just begun

Did I catch the wave at
The shot of June’s gun?

Everything has been
Weave and scramble

Dodging the heat
As rent by gamble

Weeds now at seed
Need pulling speed

Gardening’s the one
Project craving feed

Kept wanting to focus
On editing and music

But maybe these are
Fall to winter projects

When sunlight pales
As cold sings its gale

And by a heater’s fire
Hours spent are cozy

Altered States, The Accident - As Of 10/10/25 Early AM Named "Clyde" (Short For Collide) Because It's Funny And I Deserve Mirth At Its Expense

Anxiety

Candid Corvid Productions

What could this be?
Why do I feel empty?

I give to others
And help family

I think my body hurts
As engage arm or leg

Gravity is tough going
If spine to neck flayed

To rise from bed
Needs a purpose

Towing the line is
No longer worth it

If movement is stiff
Maybe stay in place

Catch up to moment
Give self some grace

A Return To Innocence

Of Significance

Candid Corvid Productions

“As I drove home last night, the streets were mostly empty, and downtown felt wide open and welcoming.

I thought to myself, ‘What makes a town feel like home to me?’ – for where I live surely has many of these qualifications.

Then I dreamed I was in a place like Portland, and having walked into a bar/restaurant, realized that the drunk and grungy, street-hardened group hanging out there was not my kind of energy.

I left and soon found myself in a health-type grocery store checking out the discounted items of herbal samples and lotions.

I remembered that I used to like making simple leaf and flower combinations, and that I also enjoyed the feel of nourishing creams soaking into my skin with enlivening smells of subtle flower petal additions, such as earthy calendula.

When I happened to look down at the floor, I noticed that very small and polished natural stones had been accidentally dropped here and there, and began following the broken trail as I collected them.

I was often bending over at their level and thus caught the eyes of passing children – who also began collecting as we shared a secret exchange of momentary glee in our separate hunts for pretty gemlings.

A wall disappeared, revealing an open, bright-lit river bank along the store’s entrance where booths had recently been taken down from a community art show event.

As I approached one spot, I noticed that a previous crystal booth’s vendors had left a spread out swath of flat, polished stones of agate, bloodstone, and more types on the ground, and so I sat down on them, feeling their warm heat from having absorbed the sun’s rays radiating into me.

Completely drawing inward, I lifted some strands of my hair that were dangling forward and examined their colors refracting in light, above and in contrast to the sparkling stones below, as I breathed in the smell of green grass and sweet riparian foliage ambiance replenishing my vitaliry.

People passed by, but left me alone, as I basked in my own being’s return to simple innocence and wonder.”