As if they were Those hands, Those lips That mouth. The spill of salt and lust Is a dream ready for real, The Pinocchio magic Of a lonely heart Searching for complete; Daring for connection And the firm grip, Stroke, Flinch Of shuddering release. In the end it’s quiet, An ecstasy awaiting The ecstatic. A […]
Read MoreWith my eyes I see art, yet my hands move as if compromised by other skills, no delicacy with color or shape, no wood or nails meeting exact measures to impress. So I rely on simple science, something new; glass and lens to portray unique angles on this unoriginal span of days generously labeled a […]
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