This painting, titled Pacific Coast Combers, is  the work of Jock Macdonald. A very dear friend of mine, Dawn Apelian, saw it in Victoria and thought I might have some fun trying to write about it. And I did, even apart from the fact that it's a fascinating picture to spend some time with--all that tension between the sea and the sky. And in the middle those cryptic rocks. The poem's on the Tupelo page. Here's a piece of it:

I’m thinking the artist

could’ve called it: three ways to live

with the aftermath. But you, of course,

will look at the sky and talk about

the one way to rise above it, you’ll love

the clouds like a shoal of dragons,

a drift of ghosts. I’ll bet

as a kid you loved the stories that led

to a dark quest with repentance at the end,

or at least a quiet room.

So, of course, you love these pale beasts. These

sky creatures

with their long view of things, their hope.

But look at those waves:

monster paws,
exploding out of green turmoil. 

It was to my complete surprise that I ended up writing as if we were overhearing two people standing in front of this painting and one of them kind of hogging the conversation. It's called a dramatic monologue. Who writes dramatic monologues anymore?

That's the thing about the 30/30. It's like riding a grizzly bear because you might get there, you might even get there fast. It's just that the bear's the one who's going to get to define "there." I did not set out to write a piece like this. I just had to write a poem and the bear headed into dramatic monologue.

Meanwhile, and as always, more prompts. more prompts. Check out this page if you want to donate. Send your ideas to gaildimaggio@aol.com.