Let go (My) Love

"and crumble to little ecstasies

sleep and drift you
with autumn fingers
reach for a glass
touch and ocean
and i
fall apart to spring"
-K. Rolly

Spirits of Stone and Rain (Paris)

They had followed me the entire way from Montmarte
along the river
over the Passerelle Solferino
and bared their teeth in
the tearing lightning

every voice was ancient
and I, younger than the gaslamps
refused to go home

not until I saw the light
not until I stood in the hush
of stone and the voices gave up their rage
like the rain drunk into the stone

it was the last light in Paris that night
and somewhere out of sight
a door shut another opened
i could taste the wet air of history

something silent brushing close
a warning a portend
but i've learned not to listen

oilgraph on canvas 8x6
new work

Shamgar and the Oxgoad

silver emulsion oilgraph on wooden panel
from the series In the Time of the Judges

So That They May See

They were never without their guns. Ever.
Until this moment. Reading glasses are scarce in Africa
and for a brief time (the only time in my recollection)
they laid down their arms

oilgraph on canvas
Hoima, Uganda
new work

Wedding Days