Ada at two, standing in front of a jumble of scenes pulled from a full life, just like with Glenn’s Poem I posted below. Now she’s two and a half and painting. A firecracker, born on the 4th of July. The picture caught my attention when I was looking for an image to accompany Glen’s writing.
How They Found Me
steinbeck lost dog
women red roaring
skin bukowski cream
tour bra-flinging pow-wow
drake headstone nicholas tilt
moon mountain gods foot
old field school bus
weeping blood soldier
winged dance ballet laces
naked cat sonata
crazy cornflakes
gleason sleep number
aging mirror twin wrinkles
salmon toss trash talking
sphincter blues tacoma pier
bear lips bledsoe
broadsword bare nipples
whistle train sadness
byrd leg panties paso
egypt fist square sun
burroughs bath house break
zone creek serling owl
zelda doll cancer flowers
police poem handcuffed words
saxophone harjo tattoo tulsa
cd funsterville motorcycle lyrics
fidelo butt rash ride
pine violin ferrari bus
hilo bacon bungalow bobbing
picasso pears franco figs
fringed custer flight goggles
raven ranch poe park
eagle drive-in talon fort
poetics joyous morning meal.
Glenn Buttkus
February 2011
Glen’s blog is bibliosity. Check it out to see many more examples of his work and the work of his friends. You can also listen to him read his work there, and visit his marvelous image collections. And I have to say check out his On Patrol for a mind-blowing piece of writing. No soft or happy pictures there.
“What do I see? I see a barefoot angel looking at me. Also a snake. Where did that snake come from? And these red shoes? I would like one final blessing before heading out to cross that Supernatural Bridge, please.”
mine enemy grows older 
Thank you so much for the tribute, tip of the Stetson, and reposting, Rick. Thought you might have used SALT DRAGONS, my rewrite of DRAGONS DESCENDING, the poem I wrote in response to one of your paintings. I think it is included in your storybook collaborative; which I still love the notion of, by the way. Some of your stalwart blog followers and friends have visited my cyber spot over the years, and they certainly are welcome. It is like a treasure hunt to track them back to their lair pages and get a glimpse of them too. I friended youngest son on FB; that’s cool too.
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Caption: the great wrapped snail of wisdom hovers over the golden hair and wings of the twelfth cherub of lork protecting little dot who still talks to the gods and sees affection and wonder in the chaos, wrapped tightly in her cloak of woven ferns after facing down the whirling dervish snake that appeared after breakfast, who whispered incessantly to beware of the fishes of the air, for hurricanes are attracted to the rainbow scales on their sides, readying her tiny self to emerge from the temple entrance, to run and jump and work off the bread fruit in her tummy, picked from the hothouse trees within, to rush outside onto the narrow ridge and dally at the arch of love, the Mobbsian Gate, clicking her ruby slippers, making the high pitched clucking sound in her throat, calling to the muliti-colored amphibians to cavort and play with her.
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Poetics emerging from the Caption:
Little Dot
the great
coiled snail of
wisdom hovers over the
golden hair and wings of the
twelfth cherub of lork busily protecting
little dot who still converses with the gods
and finds wonder in the chaos, wrapped
tightly in her cloak of woven ferns after
facing down the whirling dervish
snake that appeared after
breakfast, who hissed
incessantly to beware
of the bright fishes
of the air, for
hurricanes
and tornadoes
are attracted to the
rainbow scales on their
sides, now readying herself
to emerge anxiously from the
temple entrance to run and jump
and work off the bread fruit in her
tummy, picked from the hothouse trees
within, wanting to rush headlong on the sheer edge
of the narrow ridge top so as to dally beneath
the mobbsian gate, the arch of love, clicking
her ruby slippers and making that high-
pitched clucking sound in her throat,
calling to the multi-colored
amphibians, cajoling them
from hiding so that they
might cavort and play
with her before the
tiny third sun would
drop from the sky
and she would
have to go in.
Glenn Buttkus
March 2011
This is a response and homage to the stunning painting
above, created by Rick Mobbs.
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that is a beautiful homage Glenn.
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