Filthy fingers of newsprint and recycled contaminants

Mind blindingly void of thoughts of merit

Dirty. Everything so post-pristine

Indictments of our inner souls



Of god and money and choices hard

And exclusive of peace intra or extra

When did religion and government incorporate?



One would have predicted (from here)

That clarity and simplicity would prevail

Yet only awe-struck bewilderment at

Self-imposed complexities are evident



Confusion over time is exponential

Experience loads the burden of morality



Logic and history suggest a vicious defeat

Punishment for our collective self-contempt

Even the old guy said it is the end of time

Yet my maso-optimism borders on despair



I lie awake in wonder and anticipation

waiting for the light

donkey and the might

heros in the fight

it all results in night



we waste our lonely need

in pools of wasted seed

the people did not feed

to pad our lives with greed

Found the following note - in 14-point Times New Roman - today:



Boss,



F.Y.I. The following accounts are negative balance--supplies, ac heat, tv, furniture and fixtures, light bulbs

Yep. That IS interesting stuff. "The journey" is always fabulously interesting.

Global stuff is great, but so is the US spectrum of "journey."



Whether it is the original or subsequent populating of the continent or the migration forks - south to north - of the Mexicans or former slave blacks.



Then, there are the personal journeys. Nepal to Chicago; Los Angeles to Gaithersburg.



The Journey.

epiphanies over manhattan

boston deserted save cabbies and runners

spring on the river charles



3-D models and the grids of brooklyn...queens

and the spilled coffee on my feet

i discovered the beauty of this swamp



how do you fly this damn thing

Klein broke half the rules of photography and ignored the other half, and when he first published his pictures, he offended nearly everyone.

Yeah, I know I have tables due. Tables. Appendicies. Data.



But, I got stuck on the Tori Spelling website. Then, it was a natural progression to Jennie Garth. Then Peter Facinelli.



God, I do hate myself.

Losing your home

Like losing your mind

Leaves the memory damaged

Recall analogous to silvery colanders



Images roughly similar

But surprisingly different

The way illuminated

Like dreams



The homeless mayor

Of cities past and present

Lost and anonymous

Amid successors anew



Going back is never an option

"For their materials, for the art world, for school, for the macrocosm of art school. I mean, schools to show you how to be an artist? What the hell is that?"





"The artists I like are the ones who have done their work in secret who have been secretly and quietly doing something. They have work that would be difficult to sell or even show -- they have that purity...you have to go into people's secret diaries and get them to show you things they're afraid to show."



-Joseph Mills

Sometimes in dreams, do you take on other physical properties. Are you ever made of a variety of plastics?