Thursday, August 21, 2014

Walking Through Graveyards aka The Day He Left US

The universe doesn't recognize us,
you know..

There are no monuments built for ants.

The gravestones kept up

bear no better testament to time
than those whose battered, weathered topplings
have acheived.

There truly are no songs for the dead.
We almost can touch them, taste them,
Hear them..
And yet,
They are still so long gone as to be 
intelligible to the living.
They are only a moment, 
a piece of matter,
a chord played quickly and forgotten.

Which perhaps is why
So many choose to take that flying leap

and release themselves
to the  greatest of unknowns..

Which is

the nothingness of life.
The vanishing point of no return.

Godspeed R. W.

N'Orleans in Three Parts


Pt.1- It paints a Million Pictures

Everywhere is a picture
Every place a vibrant stream
Of every type of soul unraveled 
Shining brightly in the pillowy heat

Every nook holds hidden flowers
Glowing heavy green vegetation
Spilling from the brick and terrace
Sending out a warm vibration

Here every corner plays a music
Makes you dance or sing or sway
Brass bands play for all who hear them
Steamboats key your cares away

Not Every moment might entice you
There are still ones who make you cringe
And yet they're saved by simple pleasure
Precious beauty belaying every fringe

Which gets you wrapped up taken
By viewing the lush and lovely pictures
Playing out vivacious color
Reminiscent of spiritual scriptures

Reminding you that God Is
in simply everything around you
That life should be lived with reverence
For all that does renew you.

Pt.2 - Meeting Aunt Jewel & Robert Vincent
This is what it's like with Family
You start to talkin'
See a person's history laid out before you
You hear Their story
Feel all the love that got put into them
You see Their roots
And from such tales
Learn how they grew
The aspect of their soul you were drawn to
Put into words that are not your own
A version different from the one you're used to
Which finally explains how
You could find them so uniquely wonderful
And soon
You are awash
With memories that are not your own
But shared they make you feel as if
With Family
That is
How very special to find yourself embraced
By his homecoming
That is
What it's like to be with family
It is part of what it's like
To be This in love


Pt. 3 - Big Easy

They call it Big Easy
And so it is
For there are washing machines waiting
Where you least expect but Want them
And "Hurricanes" flow freely
And life is the channel
Through which the water dances
The pulse of time is efervescent
So as never to let one imagine
That they are pent up by it
Or the fragility of space
Fluid day to night
Night to Day the warmth entangles
Even the coldest of hearts
And mine
Is not the one to question
If any of this is Real 
Or if it only serves imagination
As affirmation of my every whim
I wish i could stay here forever
So as not to disrupt this balance
Bounding out of my insides
Into the crevices i capture
So impressive in their lies to me
That all is right in the world of men   

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Art Murmur; bringing something new to First Friday in Oakland

Striking into new territory, i will be bringing my newly crafted pocket flasks to this First Friday in Oakland for Art Murmur!

 Find me somewhere in the throngs of vendors, music, and art-and/or-people-loving people betwixt the 22nd to 25th street masses... 
I will be the one with all the flasks, offering some special firewater to fill em for slightly higher fee... help me to help you have your fun, regardless of the new anti-drinking establishment of art murmur! 

As my grandmother treated it, so do i... it's medicinal!  
Cure what ails you, come and get your flask this Friday evening,downtown Oakland from 6pm- 10pm! 

Friday, August 10, 2012

Once again... 
Maggie Malloy curates 
another great sculpture show,

in a brand new gallery space,
operated by Steve Allen:
SMAart Gallery,
located at 1045 Sutter St.
in San Francisco!

The show, Deja View,
includes myself
and nine other ceramic sculpture artists, 
showing a collection
of current & older works.
It will be opening on
Thursday, Sept.6th
from 6-8pm, 
concurrent with
the Polk St. Artwalk, 
and will close on 
Saturday, Sept.29th
6-8pm also.

I intend to show some of the work shown below:

Looking forward to seeing you there!

Friday, March 02, 2012

Totem of the Lost Spirit

Totem of the Lost Spirit

Totem for a lost spirit,
in the nation
of once was wandering
bison herds charging,
elk horns leaping,
tribes led by
needs of eachother,

turned bloody battlefields,
and so many slaves brought a'sailing,

bloodshed over ownership
over man, land, and water;
turned gold diggers,
miners of fortune,
pioneering possession
from the east to the west

unto ill-defined and unprepared for ends
that so far have not
and may never
justify any means...

Once nurturing the spirit in all things
became havers of dominion over all things.
Once everything started being about
costs and payoffs,
So much of us has become
just a game of numbers,
and endless race to gain,
regardless of its diminishing of our common values
and the needs of our species
to survive within
the greater contextual web of spirit and life.

This is my totem
steeped in the remorses of a lost nation of voices,
crying out for a common good to come from
pains of being so very bad.