Reflections and notes on the relationship of art to nature and of nature to art from along Warwoman Creek, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Katuah Province of Turtle Island, where the light, the dark, the seasons, the time of deep past, deep present and deep future all mix in alchemal mists to reveal and hide and transform these slopes, shaded coves, bright rivers, deep forests and me, and together sustain me and my art.

Monday, March 18, 2013



Late into the night,
toward morning,
my aging father is channelling
ghosts - get in the car
son - take down those old
family photos - put them
in the car - they'll be waiting
for us - I've got to drive to Austin.
He fumbles in his pocket
for the keys he no longer has.

His words come alive
out of the past as if there were
a future for them, imminent.
Son - get in the car - we've
got to go.

Fathers and sons - what does
pass between them,
unseen, unacknowledged?

He looks at me then
from across the room,
from a distance I've never
seen before, or even

I turn off the light,
close his door, get
in his car and head west
toward Texas,
dawn following me the whole way.

©Laurence Holden, 2013