It’s a train car without wheels. A gathering for the subculture. An information center of new and yet to happen. It’s a stopover between this and that. Art deco, vinyl and stainless steel. Formica countertops and a bathroom without a lock. A jukebox with failed neon’s struggles in the corner. Eggs and coffee all day. … More AN EMPTY SEAT
From the third story window, traffic below releases a voice. The aroma of warm asphalt, oil and exhaust rises into the space between tired buildings. People imitate the ants below their feet; swerving to avoid contact. Passing anger remains concealed within; learned by everyone to survive. Eyes gaze from open windows, scanning the streets and … More OPEN WALK
FROM UP HERE Shadows run charcoal, flat like iron painted across walls as it spills silently onto a fallowed field suffering from a lack of love. A blood sun spreads rivers over streets and sides of tired brick buildings. An emotional wind creates sounds resembling words whispered through fences and back … More FROM UP HERE
A low wind without voice brushed the small third story window where she looked out. The ocean, not far away, lay clam like a lion dreaming of the hunt. Her bed, unmade. Covers tossed, evidence of nights trappings and the places in-between. She whispers a psalm from waking lips. Coffee completes the eyes … More The Next Step
Satin coated drops of water course randomly off green canvas awnings outside my bedroom window. A summer morning filled with rumbling and capricious winds stirs me in my warm cotton cocoon. As I open half dreaming eyes, the aroma of wet grass welcomes me. The fragrance of coffee wafts through the rooms. … More CANVAS AWNINGS
Windowsills are portraits of life inside, the evidence of expression with colors and shapes. Each opening is a signal of suggestion from the person within; chimes, stained glass, children’s art, toothpick stickmen or paper animals. Windowsills are the eyes of buildings, watching to the “out” while welcoming the “in” with a glance.