1. at least oblivion offers peace, an unvoided contract of open sky and blue bliss earned by so many but reached by so few in that space between each step in that space between each breath don’t blink in that space between each heartbeat the moment glows do you see it? 2. oh, the sinister [...]
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Do all trees weep, Or do they stand and Suffer us to live beneath Them unawares That there are those whose height And times stretch further than Our own, Whose reach is more eternal And whose loyalty is pure, unfeigned And firm from earth to sky?
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Under the weathered awning, the vagrant’s joints began To ache, hiding from the rain, he scratched his Roughened, feeble knees and cast his sunken eyes Up and down the thoroughfare. Storm subsiding, and Then a biting wind. He had sat there long enough To know a cold snap when he felt it, twitched his Hirsute [...]
I’m beginning to acquire a practical understanding of just how futile artwork is in a vacuum. I believed it before. I knew it in my mind. But I now feel it sinking into my gut. Actually experiencing it is something else entirely. Although I would likely dance on a desert island, and probably clang coconuts [...]
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Mahogany gallant Kinkade treasures giddy frappes and cappuccino cluttered corners contribute to it. That’s what I say Am I in this triptych? Take me outside, tuckered up and running night’s pitch and stoking stars brighten shades. Witness this, the best of all.
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Yesterday fall struck In the winds I can smell the trees turn to rainbows
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The nature of my creative process leaves me with sketchbooks littered with seemingly disassociated concepts. Stray idea gobs hang from folded corners, and outlines of amoebas filled with gorgeousness sit atop the pages. Sometimes I glance back, even just a few days, discovering snippets that could easily have been penned by someone else, because I [...]
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The composer achieves nothing without executants. . . for while it is pleasing to hear people say, “What a beautiful work this is!” it seems to me even more so to hear them add, “Oh, how angelically they have executed it!” – Luigi Boccherini[1] I know that music is made to speak to the heart [...]
