About Love… in scientifically accurate poem form.

The heaviest weight my neck should bear is a 22-bone skull, 100 billion neurons, 100,000 miles of blood vessels, myelin, and long, dark hair.   Yet what weighs heaviest exists invisibly. Consciousness, sentience, wakefulness, subjectivity. Thought, ideas, the arrangement of ideas as an outcome of thought, the either spontaneous or willed act of thinking which produces thought.... Continue Reading →

New York City: Part 1.

NYC.  I slayed it.  It devoured me.  We're even. I arrived in New York on the afternoon of April 30th, spat out into the subway among a throbbing vengeance of a trillion footsteps, smirking New Yorkers trampling me as I lugged 70 lbs of lingerie to the L line. In a residential Brooklyn neighborhood, I... Continue Reading →

Thisbe’s Thoughts on Love

There is no way around those days that are made up mostly of romantic moments in states of stillness, from making it into the bank of memories that ping your aging heart. We really are just muscle and blood, formed out of history’s rubble and backsplash.  Time, incidental, makes the made unmade, and the unmade... Continue Reading →

On the precipice of unknown adventure, like a landmark rising from the horizon at first glimpse to migrants, or pirates, I hold a handmade roadmap of tomorrows’ sunrises.  It may alter as I saunter east, here and there, but the guide is clear.  What began as a vague notion of extended travel east of the... Continue Reading →

Creative collaborations on little sleep, fashioned of scant material, against colorful canvases, beneath sun or strobing lights.   Shutter clicks, director’s cues, internal dialogue.   Inspiration, frustration, sensuality, duality. Our species is: artist.  Nutrition source: light or the lack thereof — natural, cfl, led.  Our artistry dances on two sides of the same piece of... Continue Reading →

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