Monday, November 16, 2015

Stand present

The crucible filled first
The warrior second standing present
For the pregnant mother third
consciousness fills the vacuum

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Old photos drawn in colors

2 brothers share a season
Confidently look into the future
The one taking the photo is gone
The one drawing with colors leaves out their feet and the dog they induct into their gang of blue socks and hats
Cars that were once important and represented a testament to the strength of mankind.
A child wearing shoes 4 sizes too big gets one caught on the heal of the other.  Both hands grip tight to the hat that is being borrowed from someone charished.
The service station working looks into the distance and marvels at the time that he is privileged to be alive in.
3 ice cream Sunday dresses show off shiny black shoes outside the art museum.
An image is the words used to describe it. 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

In the studio

All the poetic words and thoughts that were never recorded bring me up to this moment where I sit.
The words of left have left just like the apatite 
She waits until I'm watching before she begins to eat.
since it largely remains parked out front she has become more calm sleeping under the table in the studio that I dreamed of. 
  the bike with the continually deflating tire often remains at the foundry overnight.
I will arrive home unexpected, and then immediately be greeted because she waits by the window just like I did waiting all day for my dad to come home.
We're all rushing to be the king of the hill. looking around and seeing the numbers, 
we sit in the dust and draw instead.
I go outside to see your bike on its side and further I see the gate still open and so I decided to retrieve the recycle bucket and once I get to the front of the house I see that the front door is open with the lights on inside so all the bugs can go in.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

The dragon fly meets the motorcycle

The man breathes  betta fish 

as he drives down the road 

 the leaves fly like the birds watching him pass.
The Dragonfly takes a break and rest on his oversized too XO leather jacket he found at a pawn shop for $50 it came with the helmet.

 He passes the pond but he remembers falling into as a child and the moment of falling has never left him as he tries his motorcycle by.

 They restrain their beast with tethers that show the types of people that they are. 

 The dragonfly and I travel for many miles and see nothing. I remember the playground for the kindergarten in China so we would sneak into when no one was there are we climb over the wall and look for the room with a little chairs and little tables and everyone has their own packages of markers we would go into the courtyards to play . 

And she looked over and saw them kissing

Thursday, March 12, 2015

We don't see clearly

We grow older and make monuments to defy time.
The things done  to hide and change our appearance and the labels attached to a fleeting identity.
When the ones we love are gone and we leave unfamiliar metal likenesses for a possible passers-by searching for the resting place to their genetic origins, what is really there?
We don't want to be seen how we are.  Even in death we want to be better.  Striving for something to make a mark on the world before we leave.

Built by hands

The dreams of those who wanted to create something better than they started with, always originally started with simply putting 2 similar things together and watching what happens as things are added.
The material expresses a unique personality.
Being unidentifiable in appearance and yet communicating a sense of familiarity is what helps push the creative people into greater innovation. 
Seeing and making the connections in the form of an object,  a structure is made.
The natural evolution of creation is continually adapting and changing at such a furious state, that it seems amazing that any creater can devote an entire lifetime to capture any state of it.
The more words used,  the greater their insignificance is shown. 

Home on the head


A home is put together with lots of little insignificant pieces that will not last.  It will not last. Unless it is made out of something stronger than bronze.
So art fills the impermanent home of those searching for that which is unable.
The mortal thought becomes  the immortal home when translated into something that connects all the discarded trash into something new.
While the physical creation is temporary,  the message is immortal. 

Structures of perspective and personality

The lines that create the structure of our definition of home.
  Protection from harm.
Home is peace. 
Pieces discarded stick together forming a unique identity.