15x20” monoprint

20x30” ink on cotton paper

12x19” oil paint on photo paper

16x20” carbon abstraction

20x30” monoprint

13x19” oil on photo paper

Revised Poem

 The Poems Of Humans

The poems of humans are filled with leaves;

many times illuming green,

fluttering prettily in a breeze,

a view down to lovers

on a bench.

But mostly they're on the late-autumn ground,

or blowing down a street

rife with gusts of storm—

gold and earthen without scorn,

returning to where they came—

the metaphor that we are them,

coming and going through the ages,

season upon season—

telling us the light is changing once again,

and that behind everything is a cold,

cold enough to make ice crack—

yet still, in tiny spaces,

warm enough

to let a kiss burn.

Three Poems--One Old, Two New

Octopus

There’s an animal with copper-based blood,

whose epidermis flows with flashes,

flowered bursts, revealing the life within.

If man and woman is synthesis

of every creature, a hierarchic piece

of every preceding age built from the bank

of an ancient river—a bridge

between spirit and nature—then maybe this

one is exemplar of the emotional

just behind the mask of everyday life;

a halo, afferent and efferent,

reticulated and coursing

between the real and the dreams.

The Poems Of Humans

The poems of humans are filled with leaves;

many times illuming green,

fluttering prettily in a breeze,

a view down to lovers

on a bench.

But mostly they're on the late-autumn ground,

or blowing down a street

rife with gusts of storm—

gold and earthen without scorn,

returning to where they came—

where the metaphor that we are them,

coming and going through the ages,

season upon season,

is often employed—

telling us the light is changing once again,

and that behind everything is a cold,

cold enough to make ice crack—

yet still, in tiny spaces,

warm enough

to let a kiss burn.

(untitled)

Even though we only met once,

weeks have gone by and

I’m still inspired how

you were exploring,

and how you listened.

So few like that

anymore it seems,

and an interesting

person seeking—

in metaphor—

inspires and helps

with the heavy lifting

of words attempting

to hold meaning—

perhaps even

wisdom.

19x24” watercolor

Acrylic/oil

Quote

"Although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me." -- A. Einstein

Ink painting

What year is it again?