I dreamt that I was walking down the halls of an unfamiliar school. The school may have been unfamiliar but the way that I carried myself in my pupil days was not. I’ve always had a big spirit, but growing up I didn’t always know that or know my purpose or how valuable it was….
Category: art
God
The innocent me Seeks divine intelligence To express myself
Prayer and offerings
Family gathering for the living and deceased Table spread with savory foods, rich bread, and sweets A voided space between realms filled with laughter Candles lit for prayer, protection, and to guide our loved ones along the way Water poured into fancy glasses for libations and hydration Music playing to raise the frequency of the…
Bath house
Bath House. Private. Hidden sanctuary that only the lost souls can find. The map is their sorrow, their tears a stream of tranquil waters and their longing for healing keeps them afloat. Bath house. Private. Hidden sanctuary that only the broken souls have the password for admission. When they arrive at the gate, the whispers of…
On Seeing Cezanne’s “Pines and Rocks”
branches fracture sky
Weekend Commute
the wind dies arounda corner where you could light your cigarette withoutthat newspaper, wet,minutes before the trainadvances toward uswith a wave of sprayand we all hatchinto our positionsand hold them, as rockskeep their shape withthe smallestfidgets untiljust after our arrival
November Rain
“No one’s really sure who’s lettin’ go today.” – Guns n’ Roses A sad song, perhaps, this,that dapples sidewalks with,in each stroke of rain,leaves, yellow devils,to menace usamong the few fallengreen too early. Each leaf (or more) tumblesinto their soft scatterof paper voicesfrom treetops, down shinglesamong the still-spry clover,and over vermillion bricksin a late chorus…
Faustian Sentences p. 3
we put together
thoughts
like good TV
to pull quick
against a profile
of guilt at
every detail
Faustian Sentences p.2
The series of short verses “Faustian Sentences” were written while inpatient for mental health concerns. Each sightof handshanding over meds in papercups takesa sleight of mind stolen from timespent alonewhen each of us is judgedby the juryof our fears. * inside ofone momentthe day plungesinto glare and the tremorswe call plansretreatinto machines * three days…
Faustian Sentences, p. 1
we speak at times
to no one
and at others
to ourselves
words that cover
what’s between us
and the absence
never there
even if they seem
like what they are
or if they are
what they do not
ArtRoot Writer-In-Residence 