Working on a little portrait of a brown bird Wet feathers. The time of your life is everyday. Cradling your organs like a baby, in your soft hands callused by pens electronics and the echo of gardening tools. We live... Continue Reading →
Today's April 1st. I'll give you my sadness, my pondering unquelled and the delivery of a fruit basket-- out-of-season. I promised sex, choice and nature. A baby. Love, timeless themes. I'll give you green boxes, fill the bottom with despair,... Continue Reading →
Morning of sleepy eyes Lingering images float but forget Not able to make it to the surface Each night I feed you pieces of me Lost in the Martin realm With a cloak of black around me The power is... Continue Reading →
