on ice 3-6, procreate

on ice, part 2, procreate

on ice, procreate

remember me love, when I’m reborn, procreate

You were written in the stars that we are swimming in And it has no name, no guarantee It's just the promise of a day I know that some may never see But that's enough, if the bottom drops out I hope my love was someone else's solid ground

I was dreaming of the Liffey I was thinking of the Thames And now the East River flows by to the same end Are we too sentimental to not look back and stare?

calamity lover

wild eyed disheveled vine-wrapped expanse patterns new earth like unfamiliar skin warm pulse steady, soothing between long-crumbled stone a gentle wildflower chaos splits open a roaring silence on an unfurled land in the distance  my forgotten vestige of courage sun draped brazen beast bellows: a blissful calamity

“I am doomed,” and in the field  fell a sanguine rain

salt burn

on the bank of the Hudson, craving wide ocean: the kind that devours entire stars in flaming shards scatters them to the horizon on this bone dry concrete island I wanted: to wade into sharp saltwater sting a coarse crystal redness is something like fire instead on the water: dull embers of a billion occupied windows

you beautiful anarchist, 11x14, acrylic on canvas.

I'm gonna be lazy when I write about you Even though it takes all my might

new york x06

You must walk with purpose in this city: full strides, squared shoulders, eyes straight ahead. There’s a beast here, you know, it lurks in stillnesses, preys on idling.

You’ll feel it like a cold vein in the current, creeping up behind you, if you linger too long on the sidewalks, and it tugs at your hands and nips at your ankles and taps out a hidden rhythm that demands attention and commands obedience. Here concrete undulates with a pitching chaos of crowds and ideas and dreams and survival cresting into the roar of traffic at the intersection, breaking into a scatter of rush hour crowds. They say never to turn a back on the ocean.  

There’s no time to tread water-- if you are not climbing you are drowning, screams the midnight cacophony that will find a home behind your eardrums-- no time, no time, no time. Feet one step ahead of the sidewalk signal. Incessant footsteps drum out the war beat of the beast like an indomitable countdown.

a wrinkle in infinite, 11x14, acrylic on canvas.

third time across the styx

when Eurydice followed Orpheus halfway out of Hades I wonder if she watched his silhouette  eclipse the light in one shallow second  I wonder if she learned how to be selfish

I wonder if she called out to Orpheus when her voice was swallowed up and her freedom callously lost or I wonder if she greeted Charon instead with bitter familiarity or cruel indifference to the pride of men

if you tell the story of Orpheus remember it was Eurydice who was dragged halfway out of Hades  who was left behind  I wonder if anyone listened for her lament

Secrets hide in the mountaintops. 16 x 22 cm, pen on paper.   

(Salkantay Trail, Peru) 

volcanic

at the edge of the world  every exhale is a voracious bellow laughs at concrete creation every inhale a slow lace caress shrugs off definition and i was creased jagged surrounded stripped down sanded smooth begun anew

(Kaloko-Honokohau National Park, Hawai’i)