top of page


memories of long words and longer sentences

bruises and drops of ink

you paint us in pain

baroque images

while the night washes us in old light

I remember you

slow from eons and light-years of yesterdays

while I am comfortably nestled in my blankets

I think of you drawing me out

drawing me

bending me over my kitchen counter and making me cry

while we are warm and safe I think of that moment

of stillness

right after being hit

painted with a stroke of a cane

the bottom of that moment is stillness.

empty but for perfect

when you touch me softly

it is with an incandescent light


like blood lit through skin


Updates on New Galleries, Stories & Films

join my mailing list

bottom of page