ICE A hair dresser, a make-up artist, an educator, a photographer, a poet A performance artist; “superimposes poems on images” Ice is a regular performer on the poetry circuit in New York, published in a variety of anthology’s, artist publications, and on line. for more info on the sale of photos please email icegayle@mac.com available for commissions mailto:icegayle@mac.comshapeimage_3_link_0
 
on these stairs tomorrow waves goodbye ......taps my shoulder tender......autumn holds my hand... remember... I walk up slowly....sunshine through a huge window making it clear...leaves fall gently..... green into brown.....I’m sorry.. stands at the top with a smile and her hand out.. ....smoke floats... music plays voices, family, friends, teachers.... a peacock spreads his blue green feathers, walks around in front of the french doors......you can see him as you turn left, walk up the second set of stairs......I read Michael’s poetry, everyone says it was as if.... home movies play on a huge screen in the middle of the room.....we all stay till the day falls a sleep thththththhththththhthththththththththththhhthththt
 
Dead silence in the morning I make coffee ........ never a close door or Window..... the cat waits, hello, “I say”... she Stares, poses, turns, walks away without a Sound.....in the streets magical gardens and Swimming pools thrive behind concrete Walls........ This small town feels abandon and lonely.. .... You can hear foot steps on a warm soft breeze; a vacation resort Water ways, boats ,restaurants, English, French, German.....chatter all around, bike Riding, holiday hotels .... houses....laughter Sails on...sail boats.... I sit at the edge dangle My feet....drink wine listen to memories in the Wind.... “When ever we need to be together” ....she Says.... I scoop her up in my arms,” go in peace Jeanne, I say” Jeanne goodbye I hold her go in peace peace
 
we
 walk talk alone on this street pretend it never happened
 
open
your heart
hear
my plead   play
our
music
come
dance
 
 
 
 
 
I wait
each
day
words
from you
don’t
come