Waking

This poem of mine appears in the current issue of descant.


Waking

When we reach the other end
and say “We’ve come so far,”
what’s left to decipher?

The winter morning rising
glows like the element in an oven,
dislodging our stiffened joints.

Is this a resurrection?
No, we were only sleeping,
at least I was, I believe.

What you dream will decide,
so I read myself to sleep.
The words convince my faith

my will is strong to believe.
The page of night replays the page of day.
The faith I shake shakes itself awake.

The Good Life

inkjet print, Liquid Paper, charcoal, highlighter

Now Appearing

I'm the featured artist in the current issue of the online literary journal Wazee .
Browse through the site to view these four artworks and my profile page:

A Pocket Anthology of the Human Spirit

What you find in the night

Ace of Spades

Place On Straight

Featured Artist Page

Boredom Never Sleeps

Here is a poem Mike Amador and I composed at Cafe Bliss around 1994 using the Surrealist game of taking turns writing lines. It was then 'smoothed out' for better line breaks and flow. Lots of fun. Everyone should give it a try.


Boredom Never Sleeps

Boredom continues like coins
sleeping in her dress, like empty cabinets
and a chest of drawers never full.
But boxes of pillows rob the poor caverns,
find people awake in realization,
waiting for a match to exist, hoping
figures of plaster images
never shatter away.

Still life pictures move, unstill in ice.
A music candles the shadows on the wall,
the wall of bricks and paintingless frames.
The trains of rain slow down with a screech,
as headhunters sweep the streets with heads full of hair.
Wax melts. Hair singes with the song.
I am dying in my coffin.
I am living in my life,
coughing in bed.

What's left to learn? What's left to learn.

wood, paper collage, acrylic, charcoal, glass, metal, pencil, ink, stain




close up view


April 2003

Another old drawing...1993