It’s All My Fault

They say “the body remembers.” Somewhere in my mind, the intrusive sound of the soles of men’s sensible shoes slapping onto the shiny floors throughout the corridors still haunts me now and then. Sitting on a shelf labeled “incongruity,” the sudden thunder of racing footsteps filling the hushed, echoey hallways Read more

The Tapestry Of Our Lives

Art lives inside the silver fox gray of an unruly beard and disheveled hair reaching for the clouds Bringing them down in a floating fluff of white light onto the canvas Art breathes through the patient, observant eyes of an old cerulean soul Beauty lives inside the mysterious deep dive Read more