–Sandy Brown Jensen
(This poem is about my unusual muse, who is a ten foot tall hominid who survived the Ice Age and still roams the Pacific Northwest. She is not to be confused with Sasquatch of urban legend fame or Dzonoquah of the sacred Kwakwakawak tribal pantheon except that in Dreamtime, she is both of those. I am working on a book of poems called
Will she come to me now when
the little creek of grief is nothing
but dark water in an old ditch
inching upward with the swell
of winter rain?
She is a creature
of the far North. All winter
She sleeps as the bears sleep.
She lets her dream body loose
to roam, held to her sleeping
bulk by the thinnest of silks.
When the winter nights
are tin cold and the stars
so far away that I may as well
have my head in a bucket
punched with holes, I look
for her between fir trees. I listen
for her in the gunshot snap
of a frozen limb. I try
to find her thread
and lead her to me here.
Now the March thaw
is breaking up the rivers
the way, long after a death,
the heart begins to rise again.
I know she is traveling
toward me now, the long
southward beaches still roaring
with open mouths their storm
She is finding
cockles among the seaweed,
and her eyes, if you could see them,
have twin catchlights
like inverted crescent moons.
This is a full double page view of my art journal.
This is a closer view of the right hand page.
This is a closer view of the left hand page.
“You mustn’t be frightened
if a sadness rises in front of you,
larger than any you have ever seen;
if an anxiety – like light and cloud-shadows,
moves over your hands and everything you do.
You must realize that something is happening to you,
that life has not forgotten you,
that it holds you in the palm of its hand
and will not let you fall.”
This is from Sandy Brown Jensen’s current art journal. It is being featured this week on Tumblr’s Journal-Inspirations site.
I am documenting my journey through Laura Valenti’s Meditations on Gratitude Online Photography class with short videos. This one introduces my art journal as a place to collect my moments of gratitude.
My favorite moment in it is when I totally serendipitously video my cat Pookie curled around a stone called “Poetry.” I took a screen shot of it, and I’m going to put it in as the first image in the journal.
My cat Pookie curled around the Poetry stone. She will go in my art journal.
This is the first sketch I did for the Color Your World colored pencil online art class from Toucan Create! It reminded me of the poem, “Moon Roses” by my husband Peter Jensen. The marriage of the two speaks to the soul of the Mysterious Night Vision Field Journal.
M oon R oses
Written after my shock at 9/11 turned into an endless grief
Sometimes, we have to leave the Earth.
Some times are bad times, war time, time
to learn how bad humans can be. That’s
when we order roses from the Moon.
Moon roses show up, brighter than summer
roses, pale and day-glo and neon
as if they were grown in an off-planet
hot house. They appear too good for this world.
We ordered four hot pinks, two purples, and two
creamy oranges, and they last as if their petals
were silk spun by Moon moths
in our winter cool solarium.
As proof of where they came from, the Moon is full.
At night, I can see our Moon roses longing for home.