toilet paper gown

A toilet paper gown has outlasted this fondant fairytale
Our dark lies gessoed white on white
Look at me leaping into a downpour
I’ve grown so very tired of ikea domesticity and Wayfair lighting–
dressage for mules in horse harness
These tissue sheaths spontaneously combusting, quiver my body
You once did this for me, do you even remember,
flesh-dancing with a blue fire no ocean could smother
I’ve become a zombie waltzing in a deluge
You and I suffocated in Egyptian cotton well before this pulp symbolism
Now my white paper gown disintegrates, I pray to the black prescient sky
Look up, nimbus clouds hide nothing-they never deceive
Dearest Love,
We doomed ourselves to this Pompeii,
the moment we under-appreciated the dark sky and caressed our monogrammed bath towels

by myself

I am trapped in an intolerable sameness
My mind, a weapon firing the same bullet over and over–
killing everything I wake for each day
Trapped in life’s jungle, a purgatory for lost hunters–
those who know where they should be perched–
but can never climb high enough
Earth hardens me, heaven humbles me
Trapped in between, I stare down at God and up at the devil
So much transpires, lustful living chokes out the meek
Promises break, chambers are emptied
Nothing springs back, nothing returns–

nothing, until him
His disarming gunmetal eyes–a grey so pure–
he surely has stolen pigment from Saturn’s rings
My weakest points give way to his bare arms
He becomes what I had prayed for
My spirit rekindles, like a weary grizzly in heat
Freed, my slumbering heart rises from its hibernation
His words turn my winter breath into spring air
Every moving part of his powerful anatomy, targets me–
He parlays brilliant charm and overtakes my trust

Sometime later, the camouflage fades
The sun breaks through the dense canopy
I observe him from a new position–
watching while he is unaware
My mind returns to restless oblivion
There is, I will admit here, a sense of comfort in the chaos
Around me, the entire world stampedes in unison
And I know I can survive by myself




soured opera

hey, can I talk with you
I’m running out of things to say
you must hear and listen closely
the flesh of my fingers and that of my heart have joined forces
I can no longer reach without stretching my courage so thin it snaps
my chest is sinking roots into the foundation
scripted musings taunt the white half-moons of my freshly polished nails
delirious encounters, once teeming champagne froth into the night wild
have turned out unvarnished piles of road bound snow
I need to suffocate these regrets
slow the ooze from my brain as it drowns my fading voice
please look into my eyes and see
this isn’t about us anymore
where moist lips once blindly crawled to eat delirious and chew desire
only wordless truths haunt moments of silence upon empty prop beds
I am losing conviction
I am losing dulcet wings to flying devils
the peripheral midnight blue curtains, gold sashes sweating to unbuckle
will be the last to darken the stage of my life
see there, my sweet notes slipping from your oiled parchment pages
the midnight fairy has vexed our maestro’s musical flirtations
bowing to the final call
my heavy heart pulls me below the dirty pool of my tears
suffocate these lucid impulses
tear shadow from skin so I can no longer find the moon
I deserve no last libretto
nothing but an end to this soured opera

swirl skating

swirl skating

haven’t tackled a “romantic” piece in awhile-wanted to give it a try-thank you


communal totem

There is an eternal savoring that goes unspoken
its pulse runs deep
beneath streets
under beds
below huts
stuck on the soles of naked feet
jammed into chests
tucked in fat wallets
thrown in abandoned shopping carts
weaved into baskets
planted in soil

across earth and ocean
the sensation of completeness
is a communal totem
whose likeness is known to all
but whose mysteries will forever remain
absent in every heart
patterna square college project I created long ago, made round for this post

Thoughts of hope go out to Nepal this night

Thorns and Crowns

Dear Friends,
The image below is a scan of a photograph. The original no longer exists. I destroyed it long ago. The original chalk pastel rendering was created in 1985. I’d just graduated from college and desired to create ‘meaningful art.’ At the time, I believed art was only appreciated if it made a statement of a political, religious or secular nature. I’d been influenced by Caravaggio, Bernini, Poussin, Goya, Ensor, Munch…to name a few. I wanted to be clever and let viewers figure out what I was ‘saying.’ This piece was ‘attempting art’ rather than expressing…

Crowns:pastelIn 1985, I believed the piece above spoke to the ‘invisible,’ heavy-handedness of the Roman Catholic Church and the US Government, and how both powerful institutions could equate great suffering and pain – many viewers would have easily arrived at this interpretation. Today, I appreciate the interplay of Christ’s thorns and the Statue of Liberty’s crown, but being ‘a bit’ more mature, I realize I was placing symbols together from my brain, not from my heart. I could say the same thing for the piece below. I painted this acrylic image, Trapped (detail), much the same way – too much from sentiment. It is wrought with over-emotion, not my true emotion.

TrappedAnd this last large piece below, a 6′ x 6′ oil painting that I originally titled, “Portrait of Self and Others,” is filled with self-pity, not self-awareness. (This piece made its debut on an older post)


I guess, having things to look back on reminds us how forward we’ve come. And maybe, that’s what it’s about. The creative process helps one learn where they’ve been, and if they’ve travelled far enough to reach a place they can call home…
Peace, my friends. When you dream, may you find enough rest for the following day.

Blogtox Injection – 3 days to go