in the long columns of sunlight i am stranded, in shade i am stranded, in downpour and desert i am stranded in this painting, poem, or song. it makes no difference where i go, i drive day and night aimlessly, i follow street shadows and blistered pavement through black and grey skinned hazard, i follow…

i am an artist, ask any woman who has known my carnal heart and she will tell you, yes, yes, he is an artist. she will tell you of my words, how i described her form, her eyes like ringed planets, the curves of her side like sand dunes touched with silk that i would…

let’s suffocate together between our little personal dramas. let’s drown together wrapped in the arms of our heavy maternal waters. let’s experiment with form, matter, sound, and light, rhyme, meter, method, and slip in to a slow strange expression. let’s enact a tragedy with characters old and new, let’s dance through life and cast dark…

i have encountered again the panic, the residual fear that hangs about and it brings me to a howl, loud and cold and alone, naked, shivering, again terrified of what each moment brings. it follows me like an instinct, through hallways and down highways and across states and in to cities, through the tangled mess…