AMERICAN SUITES

"The Shepherd's Way"

The story begins on the front stoop of "The Homestead". We gaze out into the pasture of life to come. We are in America. Many years will unfold in a domicile of traditional American values. Fate, inheritance, style, purpose, all incite movements which contribute to the art presented here as poetic landmarks.

"The Homestead" At the beginning, my prayer and my short stories were both characterless. I just wanted an escape into art. Instead, the hollows multiplied compounding my persisitence until one early dawn. I lay near a bush looking up into the belly of Your stars. All the hillsides sloped down into that moment and the image of a homestead came to me. I looked at You in the sunrise. We discussed pink. While together that morning I put all joking aside for Your soft winds of inspiration. Some arid voices said this path would lead nowhere. I might find no more signifigance in my craft than the revelation of the clown who drank the orchestra and was engulfed in warm air smelling like freshly baked bread. But, not I. I would observe total transformation through characters coming alive in my heart. The Desert. The Sun. The Red Moon. The Gull. The Tortoise. Genevieve. Ploom. The Magnolia Blossum. The Gardinia Bush. Sweet opaque magnolia trees scented and intoxicating. The Wishing Posts of eternally changing fabric. Two Hearts. All Hearts. Two Acrobats. Everybody playing Mother Goose. Eagle. Sage. Pharoh. Almost Bears and Demons. Rock and Roll Singers singing "I love you if you love me. Mother Goose Tunes ". The Grey Woman. The Grey Man. Her Man. His Woman. His Words. Her Truth "Mother Goose says the truth is with the Bird; White Eagle, Brown Gull". The Red Ocean bled under the Oxide Moon...You see, we are all the way we portray ourselves.

Face 1 Face 2 Face 3 Face 4
Face 5 Face 6 Face 7 Face 8

A Changing Stories Child,
with veils and dresses,
and large spans of white paper;
great times, in great spaces
at great distance in between.
It is us.

This story is researched from the travel notes of the "Houseguest"

"The Houseguest" Welcome to our house. You are now at the Pass, right along the north bank of the Lemon River. Evergreen timbers and cyprus reeds breathe with the heartsongs of eight spellbound doves. Harken! From that perch! Wait, what cluster of figures appears approaching our way? From pasture to the south. Although scarcely discernible, listen, can you hear their voices? What do they convey? A hearty greeting? How do you feel? Here, sit, take your breath. A tight filigree of moss filters away the summer sultry steam rising off the pasture stretched and dissolving into the southeast. Our nearest cross roads is at the crested plains where the earth folds to abruptly form a delta. Characteristically, with each spring comes seeding of a different array of vegetation. The seasonal folaige, seemingly imbibed on the flush of frequent rains catapults as vibrant color into greenish hues thatched with deepset blue strokes as underbrush. Our imaginations are plunged into sweet fertile dense umber naves, our minds rush with pleasure in rhyme and theatrical play. Do not be astonished. You are one the company here. We, the Changing Stories Children. Fictional. Non-Fictional. Mystics. Judith and Apollo balance your cups! This is the Launch! Our Craft is The Discovery of Allegra. Its vision is an Evolution of Character in Dance. Page One:Trance of the Lemon River.

"Judith of the Cups"
...to be continued with greetings for David Wainscott and Janet Ginn from the Webmaster. 07/21/05.