All is as it is for now… After awhile, my body aches to be free of lack, the lack of… Every day, this – train, transports through neighborhoods that rob and hoard dreams, parks as a reminder of what nature lies out there, home(s) with external grandeur that most lust, race and competitions between machine, … More All is as it is for now…
A moment to breathe… A moment to think, or not… modern day zen garden of my mind. Light of outside dance, change, shock, amuse and for some reason, remind me how small and insignificant this moment is. Getting lost in this lifting beat, string bass vibrate and jump from ear too ear as it crescendos … More Passing by… bye.
This is the spot, where the diamond meets the 3rd row of ornate shapes, the marble is smooth and reflects back patterns within patterns. As I stand here, a private rave echos through my ears… the beat, the ripple of symbols pulse toward a rumble that fades into an air of audible smoke. The transcending … More Train’s rave
Just as getting a paper cut, the pain I experience, passing by this spot, this place of my birth, everyday, is an annoyance. The initial shock of vulnerability is faster than I can gasp as I look down and see a line of red. Pain does not always surface but acknowledgment of that wound brings … More The paper cut
I don’t know my mother nor my father. I don’t know how to be a daughter. It’s been told, to me, I was found nestled between a pea patch and the compost bin behind the city’s most coveted building. An architectural shrine to the city of beauty, art, music, science, religion and attraction that temps … More By the trash
As I exit the door… Is this the last I will see you? . . . rita a life gone. a friend forever. my heart yearns for you. an emptiness envelopes where you sat a suffocating ache clenches forever remember with light. forever remember with genius forever my dear friend. . . . . . … More rita
To avoid having the answers is destructive. To fear and having the courage to know the answers is freedom. 45
Confiscated sleep. A war has awoken… a private war shared between the creative and the structure. A path that is stretched far and deep from this soul. Do not whisper of responsibilities, without the commitment to oneself, a shell of actions take hold and control is on solid ground. A ground where a minimal art … More Confiscated sleep
Walking through the leaves is a thrill. A world of senses are heightened The slip of a fall surges a deep breath The crunch and cradling of the leaves comfort Walking through the leaves is a thrill.
If I were unable to verbally communicate with you eye to eye, I would create in hopes my thoughts and heart were properly being expressed. A walk. Baking Writing Photos, I’ve taken A smile from the eyes Time spent together I would tell you everything through my actions I create. 10.11.18 spoken