Monthly Archives: March 2015


"Valentine", 2015 (c) Daryl-Ann Dartt Hurst, mixed media on handmade paper.

“Valentine”, 2015 (c) Daryl-Ann Dartt Hurst, mixed media on handmade paper.

The Portrait series, or as they have come to be called, “The Personal Storms”, have evolved onto handmade paper. There are also bits of collage in this piece.

It will be on display at BUOY, Kittery, Maine through April. The opening reception for the show is this Friday, March 13, from 6-?

Dedicated to Steven Starger

In the interim, I have exposed some of my poetry to my Facebook folks. Here is this:

Dedicated to Steven Starger:

(This was originally published in 1985)


I have smoked one-too-many cigarettes.

I have watched the wind and wished to be weightless.

I have tasted the morning-after more than once.

I have cried in my beer and been unable to cry.

I have been accused of being too honest.

I have written too many love poems.

I have eaten too many ice cream cones.


I have craved the American Dream.

I have marched against the same dream.

I have slept with millionaires and vagrants.

I have seen the sun rise at the beach as many times as I have seen it set there.

I have talked politics until four AM.

I have been a band chick and a motorcycle mama.

I have worn false eyelashes.

I have worn false smiles.


I have made art when I had no money for food.

I have walked on the soil of sixteen countries.

I have made love to more men than I care to admit.

I have been raped.

I have learned the laissez-faire theory out of books and in life.


I have clawed at my father’s face.

I have clawed at the face of society.

I have mothered a sister who cries out for a mother.

I have loved a junkie and an accountant.

I have never sold myself.

I have smelled success and puked.


I have played chess until the board got scratched.

I have lived in a church and in a coffin factory.

I have pleaded for the clock to stop its hands.

I have wished years away.

I have wondered if I knew what I was getting myself into.


I have walked on the highway to hell, on highway 61,

on Baker Street, on old Beale Street, and here,

on Owensmouth, where…

I have reviewed the last thirty years.

I have written a single paragraph artist’s statement about

seven years’ worth of work.

I have been married for almost two years.

I have not talked much about the present, and rambled on

about the past.

I have wondered what happened to the faces in my photo albums.

I have defended the city that has given me nothing but these experiences,

and for these I have dearly paid.

I have loved.

I have lived.

I have painted.

I have written.

I have known that some things remain constant.


I had originally made this “public” again, only to use it as an example.

Thirty years later, it stands as strong as it did then.

And, now I have people who want me to write more.

Stay tuned.