Hush

•October 3, 2019 • 2 Comments

hush

“Hush”

Mixed media / October 2019

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Overheard

•September 25, 2019 • 8 Comments

Image result for suburbs painting

*image found HERE

Overheard

What when the name of your heart
rests like slaughtered light
beneath the chins of crones at cocktail parties
and the clouds circle unevenly
around roofs
like spilled champagne;

How do they call
a thousand crickets
meeting a palm?

What when hoarded spirits
become chandeliers
and learn all the words
the way the sea would say it,
the way the woods would say it;

How do they call
when a hum
makes you hold your breath?

There where you caught the mother deer
telling its offspring
not to pause for the shimmer
but be ready to run
as soon as all headlights
storm towards the horizon;
there where you were told that sunsets
are drain-pumps for lipstick,
to scream softly
and dream while sitting down
and your body was a train station
for the trains you never got to
touch or taste
and were not allowed to say
you still
enjoyed the view.

How do they call the birds
who leave and return
and leave but return
without ever taking a single feather
with them?

Where you
hear a song and drown
and dial numbers where you know
nobody will pick up
because
if he picks up
he will ask you where you are.

How do they call this place?

Two elderly ladies, they climb aboard the local bus.
Their hats of silk, their pearls expensive
and their shoes tip-top
to settle the weight
of handwoven blouses and skirts
they picked out at the mall.
Ages on their lips are puckered
as they dissect the slowly moving
window view
skipping around
the thousand jealous little rays of sun
dipping their nipples
in the swimming pool
and completely unaware of you
they brand the field with their leaving;
do you know how they call it?
They call it
“Heavy Neverland”.

No Man’s Land

•September 18, 2019 • 3 Comments

no man's land

“No Man’s Land”

Mixed media / September 2019

Title inspired by the song I was listening to while making the artwork, and you can give it a listen if you want:

Undoing

•September 9, 2019 • 4 Comments

*image found HERE

Undoing

Being at peace is consuming;
you hoist the tide
three circles wide
around your waistline,
transmute the echos to stardust
and the swaying it goes
from the corner store
to the deli
to no praying by the bedside;
the trees – not clocks but patrons,
the morning is nothing but breakfast;
each dream a softly broken
turntable of sleep.
Perhaps, along the way,
you forget to weep
and your hands learn the reflex
of climbing the string;
towards the rooftops
and in a pleasant sigh
when one is way up high
and can join in
the housewives that sing
to the birds before the sun is even awake;
perhaps
to take a bite from each of platters
on the underworlds table
and have not a quiver,
not entice a single shake
and whistle away a mid-noon at the dog-park,
to make it, bake it, break it
like some holy bread,
perhaps
Equally alive.
perhaps
Equally dead,
consuming, like
biting into the prairie that lets out
from another’s soul,
like sharing the cold with fire
and how perhaps desire
then
is wanting a new pair of shoes;
I find it hard to describe it to you
for I am not at peace.

Starchaser

•June 20, 2019 • 2 Comments

starchaser

Starchaser

Mixed media / June 2019

Smoking Cigarettes after Noon

•June 18, 2019 • 5 Comments

pexels-photo-1098012

*image found HERE

Smoking Cigarettes after Noon

Watch,
what most call touch
is thistle;
listen,
a layer among the layers
silent in the bedrock.
Machine language,
viral like soil,
incandescent
like ripples in a soup.
Wait for the dead to fall asleep,
proceed;
swipe the sweat of their brow with cashmere.
pain
is a taught persistence.
Names –
a ritual of needless
in the effigy’s spine.
Gulp. Gurgle. Gush.
Teach yourself to swallow a whole cherry.
Heart – spindle;
sentient pump,
bones of a comatose river,
it will tell what it may.
Whoever hears it
will unhinge their hands like a gateway,
prop you on their tongue
like butterscotch
like all throats are a lament
of an ocean’s feverish rage;
you will be taught
which and what cannot be green,
what can’t be red;
what to say, who can be held
and you will watch
how what most call touch
is thistle.

Ergo

•June 9, 2019 • 2 Comments

“Ergo”

Mixed media / May 2019

 
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