All we have is now.

In My Solitude.

Yennifer Jumps.

Savannah.

Moonstone, my heart.

Paper Buttons.

Bookmaking.

D, D, D, D, Dear Dark.

In the country that I live,
the trees move when the wind
blows.
On the mountain that I face,
rocks tumble gracefully,
respecting each other's turn.
Along the river where we are,
echoes of waves fly, punctuated
with salt.
I can make images come alive
but you will not come near.
I can touch a silver cord in every animal
but birds, they fly on.
The poetry of the world
is on fire, roman candles
Every drumbeat sounds
for your birth, I have made sure of it.
And I wish that your energy
would recognize it all and appear.

Fort Greene, handheld.

Mini Tour: Sunday morning at home.

Historic NY.

NEWS: Art Show & DJ Gig

Hey y'all 
My art installation piece "A Cry for Woman" is currently up as a part of the Bushwick Open Studios in Brooklyn, at the MultiMedia, Music + Art Space XPO929. 
Show runs from Friday 6/3 - Sunday 6/5. 
I will be DJing the show on Sunday at 3pm. 


XPO 929  
929 Broadway
Brooklyn, NY 11206 


http://artsinbushwick.org/bos2011/directory/?listing=2819

La Noche.

The drums sounds of a night

glistened with vintage flame

Sleepwalking, or am I?

Echoes of your bird name,

lilacs undone on the sidewalks.

I cannot lay and wake

but only with the Night,

Holy, buried Night,

Lakes, moons, swims, pianos, reverberate

photographs;

Blurred, obscure.

The red dress I wore 

The suit you crumpled and crushed

In our forest, silent film,

Gestures tell secrets

Dreams of imaginary memories amplify,

“Off the map, where the wild things grow.”

Only You.

A Marker.