Posted tagged ‘Elephant drawing’


August 25, 2021

This morning feet crossed my mind. Slightly aching feet. 

The pandemic has not been kind to my feet–not because I have walked so much more than normal, but because my online shoe shopping has proved less and less successful. (Feet feel trivial, I know, until they’re your feet.) 

To tell the truth, my foot problems started before the pandemic. Try the fifth grade, when my feet became size 10.

My feet also, at that time, became officially persona non grata.  I did not, in other words, even try to make them feel welcome.

I mean, come on.  Even if stores back then carried a nice style in size 10, the style would somehow lose its elan (especially when attached to fifth grade ankles.)

As time passed, my feet only grew stranger.  I discovered that they had extra bones; also, that, when combined with my favorite exercise programs, they were prone to bruised metatarsals, pulled tendons, plantar fascitis, bunions, split-skinned heels, the source of knee problems. 

Then, at last, I found a shoe that worked. Yes, they made my feet look like hooves. But I could wear them with dresses!  And walk miles!  

The company quickly went out of business. 

Okay, okay, but this was already the age of the internet! I bought up every pair I could find. Six or seven years worth!

That, sadly, was about ten years ago. 

Which brings me to the present. 

Suffice it to say that I now have enough ill-fitting shoes that I can rotate them over a few days. Which means I can move on to the next bad pair before whatever is wrong with this one becomes incapacitating.

And when I am really really in trouble, I wear some thick red boots that I bought mainly to use around Christmas, but now wear in August.  They are not great for walking miles, but…well, we manage. I would not call them ruby slippers, but they do make me feel a little bit witchy, and that can feel just right some times.    

Have a good day.

(As always, all rights reserved, 2021.)

As Long As (Watch out for the Ping Soda)

November 16, 2013

The Matrix On Cheetos

As Long As

As long as there’s bottomless Ping we can drink
and a computerized thingy implanted to sync
with what’s left of our brain and also the right
and Cheetos hardwired all day and all night
so that crunch we can go and snap we can pop
with never and never and never a stop,
then we will feel nearly, gee, almost at home
no matter how close or how far we do roam,
no matter if Saturn’s just outside our glass
or Uranus is left far behind on its ass–
Oh we will be happy as happy can be
in our saucer uncupped by all gravity
in a pod that’s so cute, so very cozy
where there floats just me and just me and just me.


Here’s a sort of draft ditty for Bjorn Rudberg’s wonderful prompt  on dVerse Poets Pub to write a sci fi poem.  I don’t know if this qualifies–I do confess to liking the drawing. (An older one by yours truly.  As always all rights reserved.) 


October 27, 2013



When young, they were fitted for the mask,
an age when every question asked
could be answered with because
Pretty is as pretty does,
for children will take on a task

adults won’t swallow without a flask
full of flow as hot as ash
and guaranteed to grant a buzz
of when young.

But though they aged, the mask stuck fast;
it trapped their warmth just like the cask
they tapped now, sipped and sometimes guz-
zled, to scrape off “is,” grate down to “was,”
bare what they’d been by file or rasp
when young.


Still playing with Rondeaus — not very well–here’s a draftish one for Grapeling’s prompt on With Real Toads to write a poem about a mask. 

This is also a signing-off for me for now, maybe.  I am trying very hard to get myself to go on an extended blog break, at least for the month of November.  As some readers know, this has been a super busy work period for me.  Blogging poetry and being part of the online poetry community has been a wonderful way to get out of my workaday mode–but it also keeps me from getting to certain larger fiction projects that I’ve put on hold practically forever (and keep talking of going back to.)  I really do want to make one more effort, and November, national noveling month, seems a good time to try.

That said, do check in from time to time, as I am likely to (i) break my resolution, (ii) post pictures; and (iii) miss you terribly!   

Take care, k.  

A Night Out

July 1, 2013


Someone is not having a good time. (That someone is not me.)

(I am posting from an iPhone, and sometimes the picture is too big. If all three elephants don’t show up, please just click on pic.)

Elephant Drawing

March 6, 2013


For those who have been following the saga of my move and my internet losses, the wonders of partial home internet are now mine!  (Partial, meaning that it works wonderfully some of the time for some devices.)

But I somehow remain quite tired and brain-parched, with still too many tasks looming to think very straight.

All of which leads me to say that I may be going visual for a little bit.  Posting pics.  Recouping language (I hope).

Please do visit.  I will try to widen my sphere beyond elephants, but if you like elephants, you will probably find them.

A Pleasant Break – Still Lives with Dog and Elephant

June 24, 2012


Sometimes, when tired or stressed, it’s nice to do something, make something, simple–say, a drawing of an elephant and dog, without even an attempt at particular meaning–hidden or obvious. Just elephant, dog, bowl of fruit, flowers. (I do worry a bit about the dog on that high stool, but am going to dispel those concerns for now.)

Diabolically busy week continues….

January 25, 2012



Tired on Monday Commute (With Elephant)

November 14, 2011


Sorry, photo got cut off. It’s always a bit complicated taking pictures on the subway, especially of small elephants.

Have a good day!

11 P.M. 9/11/11

September 11, 2011


11:00 P.M. September 11, 2011.

It feels, somehow, like the start of a new decade.

Who knows what tomorrow may bring?

The only thing we can be sure of is that it won’t be yesterday.

Well, actually, there’s another thing that I personally can be pretty sure of–that I will probably complain about whatever tomorrow does bring, at least a little bit.

But from my perspective–right here, right now, breathing in, breathing out, typing and not-typing, and (okay, okay) with my nose slightly stuffed, stomach slightly cramped (those are some of the current complaints–oh yes, and an occasional pulsation in the ears and I’m also kind of broke), it’s amazing, wonderful.

Public/Private disconnect (Sonnet) (With Elephant)

June 21, 2011


I hate to admit it but I’m kind of a solipsistic person.  It’s not that I don’t like people–I take a strong interest in trying to help others (particularly if it involves telling them what to do.)

But I am just awful in social situations – parties, gatherings, even sometimes work settings.  To some degree, this may have something to do with not being completely at ease with either my “public” persona or private persona.

At any rate, here’s a kind of gloomy sonnet about this kind of public/private disconnect.

Because I am now linking this post to dVerse Poets Pub Raising the Bar for critiquing, I am going to put up two versions of this poem, an older and newer.  (I think the older may be better, but it’s also the one with which I am more familiar.)   They are both a bit self-pitying, although that may be something that makes them universal.

The first is the older  version:


 After years, pretending to be what you’re not
becomes a nature;  a second skin
coating you like a kind of make-up, caught
in your pores, nestled in your grooves, a twin
of features, caked, you need not reapply.
But habits, faces, fail and it wears thin,
until, worn through, you can hardly try
anymore.  Too wary, weary, the word
“cagey” describes so much of what you’ve been,
the opposite of free-flying bird,
while unheard, and hardly there within,
is all you’ve been saving, what you hid, why
you did this, what wasn’t supposed to die.



After years, pretending to be what you’re not
becomes a nature;  a second skin
coating you like a heavy make-up, caught
in your pores, nestled in your grooves, a twin
of features, caked, you need not reapply.
Sometimes the habit fails, pretense wears thin,
that face that clung is suddenly wrung dry–
you don’t want to re-affix, but the word
“cagey” catches so much of what you’ve been–
the opposite of free-flying bird–
that, though you wish more than anything
to be seen, take wing; fretful, you still try
to keep tight all within.  Oh me.  Oh my.

If you are interested in my poetry, check out my poetry book, Going on Somewhere (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco, cover by Jason Martin) on Amazon.

If you are interested in my elephants, check out my children’s book, 1 Mississippi,  on Amazon.