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23 Jan

im at 821 Canyon Road in Santa fe New Mexico a distinct upgrade from my flea market shed to a horse stable with adobe bricks...

Dont screw up again" Done with the Flea Market 20 Bone Man brought me a red bull sayd this har weather aint no account we orta git away from this har pop stand its ovr for the year i hear they got a real hum dinger of a flea in Mesa with concrete floors a metal roof snow cones corn dogs and plenty of snow birds with fancy RVs & them cheeseheads spend folding money like its going outa style yessir lets pull up stake & haul tail to arizony new art the Unseen World--- about 38 x 62 oily on loose canvas two bobcats wandered into our hotel room interupting my amourous advances i was so stunned it never occurred to me to tell them to get their own room traveling to a wild horse hideout we had elected to stay at the camelot inn in Fargo notorious for illicit rendevous excellent turkish coffee and rowdy bobcat dancing in the lobby of the hotel i had coffee with an egyptian pharaoh who wore dark shades with a big smile he told me the secrets of cooking sheep Kabobs and the ancient technique of bobcat seduction upon hearing my story of Bobcatus Interuptus Whoopee the Pharoah proclaimed "FANTASTIC! i cut my own road and left them standing in the middle of no where watching me as i left them in the dust SS SOS--- about 20 x 30 holy multicrappia!

" and we strolled outside to inhale a beautiful field of dreams where buffalo and antelope were doing yoga in tie dye tee shirts i later returned to the room hopeful she still loved me reinvigorated by my newly acquired secret knowledge of bobcat love and grateful to the pharaoh for all he had taught me over turkish coffee however my love did inform me that i would have to take off the tie dye if i wanted to get lucky Traffic Jam in North Dakota Photo by Kat Livengood on the road this week will post new art next monday Were all Dead Cowboys 24 x 30 oily on a good bord () i am dark like the shiny blue feather on the raven that caws the corvid blues the shiny shiny monday morning dark bird blues echoes of memories buried beneath my skin often confused as a spiritual message from a celestical diety i think its most likely a scientific poltergeist rising up out of my DNA that says run far far away smear blur and blend nothing like the digital realm it' s wholly original unduplicateable the signature of a coyote running backwards down the rabbit hole taking his tracks with him the flea market indian cowboy spins his rope dancing in the eye of the storm his wife digs for the lost city of gold on aisle K theres not much money to be made here but we are all living our damned stories as best we can its not oblivion after all but you can almost see it from here i paint another dark bird its wings fluttering in the late fall wind it Caws sending a corvid echo thru time and space does your fancy art ever make you feel more than that? i have a big newsletter full of art tomorrow so sign up for the Dark Bird Gazette if you want a front row seat to view the full catastrope of my art (CLIK RITE HEAR) Crow Man--- Three Paintings of Dead Cowboys....(obsessive, compulsive or desperate take your choice) Dec 14 2015 Doors leading to Doors leading to Doors (inside the Dark Bird Palace) Concrete floors enclosed metal buildings heating and air & artificial lighting all conspire against me & the primal connection i feel to nature when im at the Dark Bird Palace where i can meditate on the mountain to the East gaze at the Rockies to the North contemplate Time and the vast Caldera to the west or simply paint like a wild coyote all day long inside my increasingly iconoclastic desert stronghold...

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when i awoke the Queen of the Known Universe offered me good Karma but as a card carrying Dark Bird i quickly turned it down the next day i drank 6 cups of strong black coffee to grow my hair dark like a Raven and my blood smart like a Crow but i drew the line at carrion for lunch since i have a good refrigerator about 30 x 70 oily on a loose canvas i dreamt i was standing in my shed at night with my paintings giving off the light so that i was able to see new colors never seen before by a Dark Bird that night as i sat in my old lazy boy recliner staring at the midnight moon i noticed clowns racing from one aisle to the next picking up all the bread crumbs i had left behind so i could remember how i got there the cars raced by on the highway unaware that i was offering a 50% off midnight sale on all my art a coyote trotted by but said he had to "think about it" (the most feared words ever spoken) later that night i bought some pots and pans from a rabbit selling on aisle C and cooked up some Dark Bird Hash and Dead Cowboy Coffee i slept atop my shed until awoke by a stinky start looked to my left sure enough a dead goats head id left there from the year before Monkey Totem about 20 x 60 oily on a good bord Road Trip to T and C along the Jornada del Muerto also known as the "route of the dead man" 10 miles outside of Belen we see a man walking with dreads to his knees wearing a gunney sack & i think i could still smell him as we passed a dying lake entering Truth or Consequences where vultures circle everything & tourism is headed somewhere else so we went to dinner at an old school steak restaurant to enjoy the local flavor where the Dead Cowboys are still drinking martinis like nothings changed since 1965 and all the cars out front are cadillacs with horns on their hood and the only salad they offer is an iceberg wedge so upon return sure enough we pass the same man with the dreadlocks 10 miles further down the road but after 24 hours in T and C i wonder if he's really the Dead Man on the Journado De Muertre clik hear four several moore new paintings YOnder There--easter at the flea market dear Jesus we got bills to pay can you please give it a break?i have no idea what you do but you do it very very well (stunned bunny rabbit staring up at the Dark Bird Palace) i bought a megafone at the flea market & screeched the Great Caw i was answered with a moo a howl and a chorus of clucks truly the birth of the flea market barn yard that said ive always admired my tendencies to be more like the angry wrathful old testament god than his love & peace son speaking of resurrection how many dead people do you really want to see return from the grave? coyotes tried to pull a goats skull from my shed this weekend its common knowledge the dark bird palace is a bone buffet the first red finch of the spring returned to its ancestral home land this weekend she was born in the eye socket of a cow skull in my shed i often wonder if the bird intuitively knows how a cow thinks he said my art was ready for the next leap to a better place all day long i wondered where is this place? when i paint at the shed sometimes i hear voices so i turn up the radio hoping folks wont hear how embarrassing the voices are visions of no worth insights that lead no where a guru of nothing i am a tumbleweed sage that rolled across the desert into a flea market happy that the wind stopped howling in my ears bone therapy staring 7 hours a day at a femur or a skull it burns away the bullshit although i do keep one good can of BS around else i wouldnt be me would i?

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