My Life Blood

I am marked by the sorrows of my neighbors. The cries I receive trickle down permanently through my skin seeping into my blood nourishing me: Insatiably, I thirst to be needed For in sharing in the horrors of those near of those despairing I experience God in a tangible way.


I copied a piece by El Museo studio with watercolor and permanent marker.


mixed media on cardboard.

it weeps as a child

I see the world cry it weeps as a child for cosmically it is ill and never at rest the wind howls and waters descend they ascend and deploy as tantrums to destroy it knows not what it needs, as a child never does, but groan it will continue until it’s pacified at once. “For…


Latent my soul exists in wait of sunshine to entice me out of my withered darkness, but the winter still comes, it is yet to arrive, so, despondent I remain, until spring beckons me to resurrect.

Black Lips

This is a piece I painted a while back with acrylics on a thin canvas. It is my take on Black Lips by Lora Zombie. 

Brittle Joy

This is a mixed media piece on canvas that actually uses water colors (without water) and acrylics. It creates a brittle effect at points and a more translucent look (especially on the edges).

Picked Apart

Does every poet want their words picked apart in abstraction? iambic, trochaic, it seems so prosaic Do they understand the depth of the words? the overall meaning? For if they don’t, isn’t this analyzing a bit demeaning?