scenic shot

 a pot boils at the edge

Ledgley a bird watches

Meat cooking fire,

Inside the brothy turmoil

Of cold wind fights,

And a dog gnaws on corncob.

----

 

tumbling & stumbled toes on hard ground

 the arc of towels

across the sky

leaving a window

in a metaphorical escape

from this place.

defined location as wherever

exits must exist

for those who feel themselves

in the quicksand.

strategy and strategems

superstitious artifact,

suspect / evil / intent,

suspicious outcomes,

detonate! ,

how do i remove thy prescene,

from the home,

from the heart,

from the hearth

where residential existence resides.

i have tried most everywhere &

feel restless

about the cause;

long and far away are my memories of warmer times.

even without fire,

even betrayed by change,

let me feast on whatever platter

comes.

 

soulkeeper / oil / red oak / 13 x 17 inches

rum runner / new year / 2023

 Its one of those quiet nights where the waitress tells you she has an ingrown toe nail and knocks on wood. "The night isnt too busy." Theres a guy named gary eating soup in a corner and ive seen him walking around the neighborhood. Its weird to me that im a dad. I have a nearby bar i like. Theres a regulars. Oh fuck they know my name. Its comforting. We battle over the jukebox. The floors are wood and the walls are stone. Theres pool tables. I feel somehow lost and embraced. Im in the middle of the best part of a daring adventure. A corner, some ale. The buzz of humans. Come on! Come on! The hustlers are playing pool tonight. I love small communities so much easier to wrap my head around the variables. I dont care about the wins or losses it all amounts to the same ledger but what about all the heart behind every choice. Gary slurps his soup and all is right with the world. It has to be enough to get me to bed finally when its all over.

 

---

*there's a place in my phone with a running commentary of all the food pickups and moments of existence my experience(s), before being thrown back in the fray.

 

---

i walk far

when little eyes

wont close.

 

far beyond the wave / oil / canvas / 32 x 25.5 inches

exist

 A cactus grows

In the silhoutte 

Of a crossroads 

Where people vy 

For their turn in life

ordinary evening

 I dont know if i have an easy memory to reference of when football ends at a bar. The noticiable shift is fucking noticiable. The bartenders switch the tv audio over to music and everyone leaves. You hear all the drunk tabs being closed. People light up cigarettes. Theres a clear distinction between the dudes who want to gamble and do, and all the other dudes who have to go home. I had no idea 830 was a consumer shift change. Dont let anyone fool you consumerism is 'what you do' as the primary job in our culture. Whatever your work is secondary to the myriad of description on how anyone consumea. Even content consumption generatea massive profit and its what 'we do'. Booze and gambling is less of a veneer than private school and first class flights. Endangered brazilian hardwood toilet seats. Still shitting diarreah. The last people in the bar either playing pool or waiting for food. Take all that as you will. Men once waited in trenches to die and now cant make a choice watching netflix.