Janet Kuypers’ 9/21/17 “Seasons Change” Dripping Springs, TX “Thirsty Thursday” show

    Chicago poet and Austin resident Janet Kuypers was honored to join poets and musicians at the Dripping Springs City Hall, where she was asked to do a feature for Thirsty Thursday on September st 2017 (9/2/21, or 20170921).

    Included in her poetry show, she started with guitar from John while singing and performing her poem “True Happiness in the New Millennium (2017 Dripping Springs edit)”. In the remainder of her show, her poetry reading about all of the seasons as they change was accompanied by music recordings from the HA!Man of South Africa (including “big drops falling on my walk” and “the cold feeling of touch”, from his “Hotel Music”). The entire show was also accompanied by a random art generation on a computer screen of her images from around the world.

[tubepress mode=’playlist’ playlistValue=’PLYa-AZK78_hoQDsslIhPFa2uoETIBU3Ma’ ]

Seasons Change

    Before the show started she also released a chapbook of all of the short poems she read in this show, and this chapbook “Seasons Change” is still available online even during her reading, so anyone could (and can) download the chapbook titled “Seasons Change” as a PDF file for free any time.

Read the poems and songs from the from the “Seasons Change” show:

True Happiness in the New Millennium (2017 Dripping Springs edit)
Knew I Had to be Ready
Original Snowbirds” (in her book “(pheromemes) 2015-2017 show poems”), “Autumn (2017 Dripping Springs / Bahá’í Faith Center edit)
Marry you in Autumn
Sepia Leaves
Quell the Vibrancy
Seasons 1998”, and “Death Takes Many Forms
Quiver with no Home
Viewing the Woman in a 19th Century Photograph

Waterfall Painting

36″ x 48″ Oil on Belgium Linen…in process
To see a full screen image go to the artist’s page https://modernartby.com/d-m-jackson/works-in-process/

The artist is earth and water
falling with a blue mist,
with mist people.
The poet is earth and water
and the earth and water
are poets and artists
reading their lines and
showing their images
to the mist people
to the observers.

The earth writes these plays
to be read
to be seen
The birds sing to be heard
by only those with ears,
hearing only those sounds from here
seeing only those colors from here
on this earth.

The Hairbrush Poem

Hair Brush Poem

Where is the hairbrush
where are the keys
where is my heart
my soul
my yearning for a soul
Where is the hairbrush
keeper of lost hairs
clinging to the bristles
with my dna
the proof that I was here
now
in this moment
with only you to read me
meandering on about my hairbrush
meandering on about life
as an observer
an imperfect camera.
The tree falls in the forest
without a sound
The hairbrush does not exist now
It will exist for a moment
when I find it.
It is in the other room
which doesn’t exist now
but will spring to life
when I enter
looking for the
hairbrush.


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