Joel is Painting

Joel is painting. Standing over the paper. Pools of water sit there, waiting for him to drop in the pigment. And the magic swirls around. Don’t laugh – it is magic. It does what it wants, and he coaxes it along. Like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. He twirls his magic wand. Sometimes it obeys. Sometimes it gets away and dances everywhere.

Joel is all about letting things do what they want. He doesn’t boss. But don’t expect him to stop you if you decide to do something dumb. He’s gonna come along for the ride. He’ll be right there with you. In it, beside you.

I’ve probably not heard all of his stories yet, but I’ve heard a lot of them, and I can assure you, there’s a theme. He’s usually with somebody who’s decided to do something crazy, and he’s right there, doing it, too.

I’m always worrying about everything. “You worry too much,” he declares, and I think, Yeah, somebody better worry. But it gets in my art. I can’t let go of the controls. That’s why I like to draw – there’s so much control. Then I add a little watercolor and everything goes nuts. “That’s what I like,” Joel says, and I think, I know.

Pulled

You lean in, lips almost

Touching my ear

Your whisper

Humidifying my hair

And every one of my

Individual molecules

Strain toward

You

All of me aching

To get closer

Every drop of water

That makes up

Me

Tries to bead on

My surface

I have to use my

Higher brain

To control the

Reptile part

To remain civilized

Against my body’s will

It reminds me of playing

In the garden as a child

The irrigation water

Rushing past cornstalks

Washing iron filings up

In the Colorado sand

I could gather scads of

The black, hairlike filings

With a magnet

Held inches away

They would leap

Through thin air

Pulled helplessly

Just like me

To you

Your Love is a Truck Farm

When you’re starving

And you find a little patch

Of strawberries, or

Maybe some raspberries

Growing in the forest

They taste amazing

So tangy, so sweet

And you’re grateful

They keep you alive

But they don’t last long

And soon you’re longing

For something, anything

Even the tiniest bite

And you nearly give up

But then there’s an acorn

And it’s bitter, but

Still you’re grateful

And you tell yourself

That it isn’t bitter

And you tell yourself

That you’re full

You really are

You don’t need

More than this

This is enough

This should be

Good enough

Then one day

You stumble upon

A truck farm

There are beans

And squash

And sweet corn

There is so much

That you almost

Make yourself sick

And days and weeks later

You realize you haven’t

Worried

About getting enough

For a very long time

You find a ripe strawberry

The most beautiful one

The sweetest one

And you just enjoy it

It doesn’t keep you alive

All by itself

You weren’t desperate

When you found it

But it reminds you

Of all those scary days

When you were starving

And there wasn’t

Nearly enough

So you savor it

Then it’s gone

But that’s okay

Because there’s

Another one

Right here