Beach Feet

a better blitzkrieg

The High Line, NYC.

On the return train to Port Chester.

pledge allegiance to yourself

Historically (and musically) a tattered flag has instilled pride. These days, shame. When you awaken tomorrow, ask yourself this question; What is it that I am fighting for?

Report Card Time

Counting credits / Will I graduate

Screw it all / Rock n roll

shadow casting flora, and one bee

Elizabeth Park, Hartford.

at the beach after everyone else had passed out

The sea and the sky
Swapped forces.
The sun sank; gripping horizon,
Exposing the beached-minnow stars
Upon a drained, dark shore.

I decided to bury myself.
It was very difficult.
It took two birthdays.
The lost uncle scratched into my headstone, totipotence.

Needlework

Substitute thread with love; weave it into complex designs meant to shelter and comfort, to be given as gift and thrown aside in the dark. We are the flesh and blood looms crafting the quilts, capes, and tourniquets of tomorrow.

Eyes For You

Tilt-Shift Still Life

Pianogirl

Pianoman

Stephen Axtell; Pastor by day, ivory-pickin crackerjack by night. A friend's childhood unfolded before us, which we listened to in reverence. Note to self: time travel couples well with a snifter of bourbon and the 12th-City Rag.