ruff ruff

i talked to her over the phone
and she licked it. my mother told me
she was just back from the vet, a pound lighter,
with a nice, soft crew cut. my brother asked me about
the parakeet we had when we grew up. the one that
used to ride around on the back of daisy maidle,
our pup. davey crockett, i told him. but of course.

why not?

there's always this vague suggestion
of meaninglessness masquerading as dependency.
i don't know what to do with it
because of course it's meaningful,
and there's no path, nothing
circumscribed, nothing definitive.
there's now and then there's
nothing and we're supposed to figure
out how to navigate in between.
that thought, that touch, that sound,
that space, that breath. this is it.

excerpt from September 10th

The crack of ice reverberates like a dissonant intruder moving through the loft-like space. Pacing the site line from the euro kitchen back to the drawing table seems like the longest walk of the century, his only solace in the smooth jolt of transparent liquor diminishing from his water glass.

Ode to David Lynch

untitled

dying to write. dying to live. living to die. why?

losing track

i look up and suddenly i don't know where i am but i know how i got here.

Life Goes On.....But Where

67" x 60" oil,gouache,acrylic,paint sticks,chalk on canvas.
I am really psyched this painting will be in a show at Benton Nyce Gallery in September...

surrender

down the road of wildest dreams

running in place,

after you,

after me,

the light blinding,

brilliant,

blameless,

blazing like flames.

oh baby, burn in hell with me.

detail/work in progress

what to wear

i decided i like to write in my nightgown--long, flowing, free...