Saturday, December 18, 2010



The blue line burn ripple down a lucid clump and besmirch
smooth skin, pink and narrow. Spoons. Down the hallway
hardwood slats, her sulk place overlooks the sound. The sea,
the nausea. Her trawler with nets heavy. I within blue line
and lithium haze nuts. Teakettle bone proper.

Knock (acrylic and hair on board)

With My Sewing Machine

Outside the shroud we terse facedown, ham hock
in a broth, the cloud the beer. Speak of the sky lit dead
we fear in entendre. Chew the slap box and past
jug in a sack, wimpled the forth facet, same time
treacle your skinny line upon the brass plate. Lament
for the mute tongue. Drop plug and plant
ass back to the harder pew. Wait. Your silks fill
with embroider most.

Glacial Tide Forecast

Glacial tide forecast as fickle outlook, pale
mud hold response begrudging pearl uncork
and dumb disperse ministration. Bend a molar
over on a turkey leg stiletto. Sudden fall pang
and twinge in the brine sludge trough again. 
I pool drop seed and nuanced grieve, brain 
sponge. Our tongue tessellates and among 
languid thoughtbacks a tonal slide, 
both actual.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Old Man - clay, wool, fur, acrylics, cloth, coffee, balsa

Pink Lolli

Fizz pink lollipop ensemble, ease into the wool
of an extension mantle. Permeate furtive tank
pressure strays, and on light for the plum sheath
of the putty. My scavenged wealth stands hollow
at a call for the linen scrub narrows. Alter plain
braid. Plan and fluff for the breakfast melee
withheld from the pantry sack. Stoic touches. 
Powder. Bread and jam.

Tangled Brain Gym

Tangled brain gym almost never understood
where with wet filament flourish, than analogous
primrose muzzle under a slump hat leave me look
as the corpulent acorn husk ball wrapped in burlap,
humid slope and stipple. Man stand shimmery
below Sami locks, an eye on the fjord door,
a flounder in a fry pan.

Brine Sludge

Brine sludge rising in the sky. Rings.
Tether flap sighs unmoored fathom rudder
slivers. Starlings are beginning their bound inside
your hat plank. Hanging on a brain rung of my own
crystalline tide, I opt up and rather gloop
upon a bird umbrella. We find a branch
no one has named yet.

James and Fang, circa 1993

Pregnant - oil on canvas