Sunday, March 29, 2009

UNFORGETTABLE

My Mother died a year ago, today.

IGENA GLORIA MILLER October 24, 1933 - March 29, 2008.

AVE IGENA









WIND-SWEPT WOMAN
(In memory of my Dear, Sweet Mother, Igena)

Your soul continues its travels
without the weight it bore here, yesterday
because that wind has blown you on home, now
though we always thought you'd stay.

No grown folks ever told us
we could never hold the breeze
the wind is the best and worst lover
who now leaves us begging on our knees.

So long, Wind-Swept Woman,
with laughter and wisdom
forever stretched across your gorgeous face
Your legacy, now eternal
Your essence, every place.

Ashe, Ashe,

Tiffany Osedra Miller



Yes, my Mother did rock those hair pieces and wigs!

May she continue to rest in peace.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

$7.00 ART FOLIO SALE!

FOR COLLECTORS WHO WANT TO GET IN ON THE GROUND FLOOR,

visit:

BASSA BASSA ART STORE



ART FOLIO #1, 'The Violent Beauty of Urda Louise'


On SALE now at my store on ETSY, for $2.00. That's right, $2.00 plus .50 cents for shipping and handling. One standard size sheet folded into four full color pages and reproduced. You can view each page right here on ETSY

Participating in sales like these are great opportunities for all art lovers, but especially for art lovers with limited funds. Your support allows me to promote and share my work with a wider audience. Start collecting these, now! Enjoy!

Tiffany Osedra Miller

Friday, March 27, 2009

The Lady Conjures a Lion


(This pastel and ink drawing is for sale at my store on ETSY)

The Lady Conjures a Lion

A lion without
Dorothy or Auntie Em
The scarecrow, tin man or
MGM.
A lion-less lion
Neither boy nor girl
hailing from an orange world.

The lady conjures a lion
the way lions look in other worlds
eroded by other wars
a lion with a staircase for its body
containing earth’s eternity, power and pain.
The lady conjures a lion –
This was not her intent
Yet she embraced its prowess and mystery
Climbed its series of steps
Without Bibles, ballads,
whips or guns
And found herself living in the
Universe of its belly.
Its newest pregnancy
not immaculate
but a consummation
of the lady’s conjuring
and the animal’s openness
in an orange sand desert
beneath the ground underground.

A lion without
Dorothy or Auntie Em
The scarecrow, tin man or MGM
A lion-less lion
Neither boy nor girl
hailing from an orange world.

When the lady conjures a lion
It does not swear or spit
Or come attached to a green and jaded jungle
But joined, instead, to its staircase of pregnancies
Digging deep into an orange ground.
And the lady who conjured the lion
Understands that this is the lion
At its most supernatural,
Un-caged in openness
Its steps suggesting levels.
When the lady conjures a lion
It does not use its mouth to roar
But uses its presence to buzz
In the mouths of lion-less carolers
Who sing into the myth of its patriarchy
Something so maternal
that it exists in dualities
Then multiplicities
And can fly as much as it can run or swim
Or present its belly to us in steps or stages
And we can call it with great pleasure,
‘The best of the beasts.’

A lion without
Dorothy or Auntie Em
The scarecrow, tin man or MGM
A lion-less lion
Neither boy nor girl
hailing from an orange world.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Violent Beauty of Urda Louise



"The Violent Beauty of Urda Louise," Volume 1 coming soon. (I love volumes and issues) Here is an excerpt:

Rumored
And rumored
that she ruined
all of the men in this city
Reduced one serious man
Into a weeping, witless clown
Participated in ceremonies
celebrating sex and spirit
And buried her mother one sad morning
into the cold wet ground.

Born to midwife
by light
gleaming off her father’s knife
reflecting candlelight
her small body washed by her mother,
grandmother and grandfather
in a ceremony by the sea
where they let her descend
then drown
then rise again
to ensure her big spirit roams free.

Rumored
And rumored
that she ruined
all of the men in this city
Reduced one serious man
Into a weeping, witless clown
Participated in ceremonies
celebrating sex and spirit
And buried her mother one sad morning
into the cold wet ground.


AVE URDA...stay tuned.