Warren Norgaard is an artist, poet, instructor, massage therapist, energy healer, traveler, and searcher. A 40-something Arizona native, he has spent most of his life creating, and searching for his higher purpose.
Mr. Norgaard has been writing and publishing poetry and short fiction since the tender age of 16. His work can be found in Sauce*Box, Oasis, Papier-Machete, Shorelines, and Many Waters, among others. He co-wrote and published There Is A Tomorrow with longtime friend and mentor, John Gilgun in 2007 (available on Amazon).
Never content with the written text, Mr. Norgaard reached out for the more tactile arts in his college years. After trying his hand at a variety of mediums, he found his home with art glass. Since 1990, Mr. Norgaard has created and shown his stained and kiln-formed art glass around the US and abroad.
Combining his spiritual journey and his creative endeavors, Mr. Norgaard took inspiration from Tibetan monks, and sought out a way to create personalized mandalas in art glass. Finally coming to a solution, he now creates, displays, and teaches this unique artform at his teaching art studio, Milkweed Arts (www.milkweedartsaz.com), located in Phoenix, Arizona.
Mr. Norgaard is married to fellow artist Jerobin Sechico, and they reside in Phoenix, Arizona with their dogs Rex, Laverne, and Shirley.
My name is inconsequential.
I am the age of a generation,
if I am a day. I was born
upon the plains of the Serengeti
and despite it
my childhood found its way
to a civilization deep in decay.
I was born to a mother, a father,
but raised by Serengeti tigers
so wild, so vicious – cannibals unknown.
As a small child, I spent my days playing
with a bear, a tiger, a rabbit, a pig,
and an owl that knew too much
for his own good. But not too much
for mine. I couldn’t get enough.
Soon, I was spending time with
a giant yellow bird,
a monster who loved cookies even more than I,
and an elephant that wasn’t an elephant.
I was reminded always,
by the powers that be
that my life was not free.
Life has a price, boys and girls – and a sponsor.
Mine was the number three,
and the letter Z.
A truncated, grinning vampire told me this,
in his strange voice,
much too queer with that affable lisp.
He would count – always in that strange voice,
always with a frightening and eerie laugh –
1 ... 2 ... 3 … ah ha ha!
And I awake ... back to the fluttering plains
of a Serengeti I’ll never see ...
a field of wonders of the mind
where I dance, and sing, and create poetry
that only the birds and the falling leaves
can hear ... can appreciate ... can love.
These words you read are not really here.
I am not really here. I am in your mind,
in a field, in the Serengeti.
Not my Serengeti, but yours ...
What do I look like, in your field?
Can you even see me?
Or are you stuck, lodged somewhere?
Perhaps between that old owl’s endless rants
and the silence cravings of a monster for his cookies?
Or perhaps you are listening
as a vampire counts
1 ... 2 ... 3 ...
How far will he go? How long will you let him?
Whatever your answer, whoever your sponsor,
just remember this:
The number three and the letter Z belong to me.
You can have the rest.
I’ve no use for them.