embroidery I

for martin, followed by the rain cloud

hunted death

An open eye with which to gauge its end.
Another, closed, to tend the finer blows of reason;
then to taste demise or otherwise the sweet fruit of suspension
wherein lies a darkness prize.
Oh hunted death!
Say, what is thine intention?

rugged and fleeting my words must be
for nothing is feeding their utility

in the right place

matty and babs

the one

michael e.t. well

whats ur blood type

http://www.phlebotomist.net/japanese-bloodtyping

watercolors

beach

witch

falling falling down she goes
amongst the nettles appear her foes
the edge of the world, a cimmerian fold
eliciting evils of gorgonians bold
foetus to aged her epigraph sold
in exchange for the universe
blasphemous, old.
she retreats to the underworld
daggers in hold
to escape what truths
of beauty and gold.

moonlight

moonlight bring to me reflection
so that i might see,
that the alternate universe
has not yet emptied.
scores of stars would falter
if only a melody
sank deep within their im-perfections,
and from inside changed key.

bad bird

MALLEABLE LIKE COOKING INTESTINES

SHARP LIKE ARROWS POINT

UPON SAID SHOT OF SUGGESTION

BAD GREASE FOR MY JOINTS

SWALLOW HEAVY THE BIRDS OF WINTER

SO YOU MAY FLY AWAY

kill

with this nothing creating
among this nothing evolved
heat of blood with what to stir
in clouded flood of what to burn
curdled messes
what to know
of which direction
arrow to bow

walls

insulate orifice
separate mold

quieted interface
escaping bold

weather corrected
insipid fold

barrier constructed
theater told

rats' demise

As the howling winds of dark design
weave destruction's crooked spine,
the royal rats descend their mound
of profane waste and naked ground.
Assuming armored darkness, down
it hurls upon rats' scattering crowd,
weak and fettered, in each eye
gleams streaming liquid screaming "WHY?"
High upon ridges and deep in the cracks
insane force reigns blindly erasing tracks
of the conquered dead rats, sucking
every last snack nimbly out to the black,
perpetuating its next attack.

Yellow Scab (memorial)

Trampin outta this Yellow Scab
On bareskinned feet
Movin past these plains and winds and
Tumbleweeds
Fuck whatever lies ahead and
Fuck whats lost behind.
Findin me a shady tree
and a plant of weed.
Gonna meet new lands with four
Knockin knees
Me and my Darlin
Him and me. The draught to the desert.
The pluck to the string.

ALIEN DEFENSE SHIELD

status updatus

With the transformation of my painting i have observed myself becoming medusa, grasping hold of the netherworlds and taking my place as the nonsensical beguiler of danger and misfortune. The fact that her presence stirred itself into fruition is no coincidence.