Royce Deans

Pleasantly Derailed

Rain falling on the soundtrack of my world
spit spat
While the sun shines outside.

Sometimes I drive a gravel road
scritch crunch
Potholes, dust and washboards take skill.

I read novels when I can
plop flip
If I am too tired, I fall asleep.

If you wake me, I won’t fall asleep again
huh? ohh
If you don’t, it’s possible I’m pretending.

The dark before dawn starts my day
sit up
My expectations are often pleasantly derailed.

Hues of warm
colors of heat

Red of rapid oxidation
orange of vaporization
yellow of light

Lighting the night
relieving the night’s chill
mesmerizing our eyes
our thoughts

Swirls as fine
as a demon’s hair
on the way home
from the salon

Fostering the want
to tell stories
not necessarily
ghost stories

Stories with nothing to do
with heat or color.

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In Bed

I lay in bed
Cool sheets
Beginning to feel the warmth left from last night’s sleep
And the night before that.

I assume the position
The one I call dream
Flat on back, arms at side, palms up, and fingers under thighs
I am ready.

Dreams are elusive
Hard to summon
All the wishing and hoping doesn’t make it any easier
Nevertheless I want.

These visions entertain
Sometimes enlighten
Night is magic, it can be terrifying, it is necessary
They make sleep more worthwhile.
When they fill my night
With color and obtuse narratives
I visit worlds I may have inhabited or would like to be a part of,
Because I am ready.

Reflections on Tusen Takk

The month of April afforded me and my friend Angela Saxon to be the Artists in Residence at The Tusen Takk Foundation. The month of printmaking there was a super rich exploration into my creative process as it relates specifically to making monotypes that have been become such an important part of my current body of work.

Check this Tusen Takk post on the residency.
https://www.tusentakk.org/news/reflections-on-a-residency

See some of the prints I created at Tusen Takk.
New Montoypes

Even Snowflakes Lose Their Will

The rain was trying to not be snow today.
Eventually it lost the battle and gave in.
Big at first, flakes attempted to reclaim the
earth it held captive all these months.

The snow was not ready to admit
that it is already April. Not today.
Wet grey air filled with frozen hexagrams,
falling but their chilled hearts weren’t into it.

I could see it, feel it.

Following some unseen general’s orders.
Each one making its way to the ground,
and melting. Morale among them was low.
Whispering that they were all tired of it.

Who’s telling you to keep this up?
As if I had the authority, I let them know,
that there is no shame in surrender.
I will welcome them all back in nine months.

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