Rage Dissipation

So here I am again with myself as it seems I will forever be, waiting for something to happen, time lost in creativity. A look in the mirror, a drooling pen scratching on the page. At the end when I lift my hand, this somehow dissipates my rage. January 18, 1995

Pax ≠ Shalom

like a rubber nipple stuck in a baby’s mouth to keep it shut the wailing cry cut off or a hand raised to strike falls down to embrace the warted one’s face what peace am I? December 1994

Line

I am looking around for my picture of a naked lady not because I am a pervert, but because my artist friend wrote the directions on how I can get out of this city on the back of some nude painted by a great master. I am an uneducated artist and I know not the…

Mothers of Peace

Today is a day set aside to honor mothers. As is the case with most holidays in this country that have been overtaken by rampant commercialization, it is easy to lose sight of the significant roots of Mother’s Day. While we celebrate the mothers in our lives and the world over, we owe the prevalence…

Pitfall

“We will dig a pit,” the men shouted. “And it will be beautiful.” “We will fill it with our treasures.” The bent their backs in labor. The toil was great. Dripping sweat, they strained against the dirt. In a while, the pit was dug. The men reveled in its beauty, for the sides were smooth…

Police Line Do Not Cross

it is only a thin piece of yellow plastic with black letters but it might as well be the berlin wall a dividing line between i in my safe warm car passing by the tragedy of another encircled by dark clothed police like pall bearers or crows who sit on the lines above observing to…

The Invisible War

While our society seems to go out of its way to honor those who serve, have served, or died while serving in the military, the facts speak otherwise. It is one thing to add another patriotic song to sporting events, donate a computer to a soldier’s family, or feature a wounded warrior on a jumbo…

Susie B And Me

Susie came into my life recently again. It had been several years since I held her. We met at the Post Office as I was buying stamps. She touched my hand. She hadn’t changed a bit (or eight bits). I should have realized that our relationship was not going to change either. The next day…