in this photograph i learned three things: one, she is delicate, two, she is universal, three, we are all one flesh.
you see how cute she is, and how hopeful even though there is very little chance of squeezing free of her frame. this frame is a product of corruption, not the corruption of rust and decay, but thieves who break through and steal, thieves whose relationships and connections get them spots first in line, thieves […]
when i first saw this, i saw a big fish swallowing smaller ones, that’s because i’m used to gobbling things up, others, anything, everything, the younger, the weaker, the less endowed, more profound smaller of us swimmers through life. but the artist told me, the woman beside me, too, that fishes are coming out, fishes […]
we live in a world where men are not allowed to cry, or women to be kings. i don’t like this world, i’m a man, and i’m crying now. i cry every day. it seems to be the only thing i’m consistently good at, the only thing that comes easy to me. people say i’m […]
‘hey there, africa,’ i said. ‘hey there,’ she replied. i first saw her on the mountain top, carrying water on her head, now i see her in symbols, carrying words forward into space. like everything else i would experience in life, this one came with a love story, all my stories are love stories, all […]
there was a time in my life where i would have seen this as a painting, a watercolor to be exact, of a reality called dahlias. in those days i might have commented on the style, the technique, used some art terminology to capture the artists capturing, of this thing in reality called dahlias. but […]
it’s normal to perceive the universe in forms we humans can accommodate, where elephants are big creatures, and we, relatively small, but big at the same time, if we are staring at a twirling sparrow when asking the question. one day this painting stumbled into me, and i sat down on the steps, for perhaps […]
she was never going to leave me, and i was never going to leave her, she’s gone now, and i am too, lost, i mean, has anybody seen me? she wrote me a poem once, “Ghost dance and I am there, on the plains, as in my dreams, as i was, brown skin in sun, […]