Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the piano mind unfolds
sobriety, and unfurled fingers
like morning leaves, scratch
at that rat's nest wig you call a hairdo

in the mirror, images of guns holding smaller guns provide the eyes with gestures

the sky fits poorly against the mountain's razor edges
but the weather creates the fine blend needed
to close off all holes
and gaps on the horizon -
now black, now grey,
now white, now blue

the transience of brown building block homes is our scratch in the sand on the surface of the sun

MYSELF, AGED 2 THROUGH 5, MINUS THE COLOURS
stretched out Ms
triangles on top of squares
a thin blue line across the top of the page, with a yellow circle underneath
a rainbow scribble

strange old man in the mirror
haggard eyes shooting daggers
grizzled beard
stupified expression
a memory of big sad apes

born into the african savanah
into far far horizons
unmarked by anything but clouds and trees
the transient foot prints of man in fossil sands






blue lines, yellow circles, rainbow scribble

fortunate child

I'll just sit in a spot
look at the Catoctins
mini mountains here
where i make my new
home, i'll be laughing
thinkin' bout how my
life was just a few
months ago on them
littered streets of
old baltimore, yet
there's a lawless
beauty there, an anarchy
that astounds as long
as your not in the wrong
place at the wrong time.....................

radio mind suddenly aloud, then quieter
the eyes, two lines trying to filter the morning sun
the objects, my guide for some minutes