photography
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That We Call Face
it clings helplessly to the skull like an overripe fruit ready to drop on the forest floor or perhaps a child’s play-sticker, loosely gripping blood and what-have-yous. it never really reveals itself; it only shows its smoothness and curves or some clandestine scars here and there. it parades its flaws or its enchanting beauties, Continue reading
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Ode to Uncertainty
maybe it’s like the sun – that quietly slides up and down the oily sky, then gone and there again. maybe it’s a prayer – gently caressing the cheeks of capricious gods and serving them nectar and honey and blood and heads. maybe it’s paper – pregnant with words and pictures that are Continue reading
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Free Spirits
they live behind bars, behind curtains and closed doors, mirrors, closed eyes, embraces and sighs; as prisoners, as wives, as students, as water, as unread poems, as contained dreams they are, Free spirits, watched over by envious clouds. Continue reading
Being Here, Now. 