Dream Pilot

the moon tumbles

into the refuse bin of morning

all dreams both large and small

contain a splinter

of truth, a chink of reality

which is why the comb 

seems to pull 

certain strands of light

from my hair as I blink

before the mirror

I spent the night flying--

a kite dragged across the sky

by an unseen string

dipping and curving, occasionally 

crashing back into my bed

in a dazed heap

of glowing sheets, luminous

pillows

I pick up my toothbrush

half-expecting 

to be pulled up through the ceiling

Drawing Blood

This won’t hurt a bit, they tell you

as they strangle your arm 

with a rubber tourniquet,

 begin slapping your flesh

to raise a vein.

The needle is small, as if to say 

Don’t fear my bite 

but I always look away at that point

I know it will burn, 

know they will likely withdraw,

stick again,

apologize

It’s like that

Don’t be fooled by cliche promises

Eat your vegetables and you’ll grow up tall.

study hard and you’ll succeed,

cheaters never win

Why can’t they just tell you

you’ll be a pint low after this

but don’t worry

there’s always more blood where this came from

And the series continues

one more....

These are proving to be quite fun.

More "Fema Art"

Art in works

I am working on a full series of art poster images created from Fema markings  on walls of homes post-Katrina in New Orleans. I think it would be cool to create something beautiful out of something intrinsically ugly. Here is an example of what I am going for.

Sunflowers in Glass

windows

titleless

Cold  hours

hugging the dark

Rainforest thunder, 

its grumbling bark

Morning runs barefoot

in the sleepwalk grasses

Sun thrusts fingers

through bird-studded branches

Dreams undress,

shed their meaning

I open my eyes

and hear the bread singing