Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

Your heart lives in the folds of the sea. In a dark cavern where dishonesty claims birth. A cruel blow has been delivered upon the ego of a stranger: your professed love, though your purest attempts are to win her return. In the meantime she suffers an unknown shame: the invisible burden of an infidel, an opportunist. But aquamarine gemstones given under the guise of sincerity will falter in their protection against the violent depths and unwarranted poison. Cold, salty hearts are prodigal. The ocean floor awaits their return.

Indecisive minds say maybe tomorrow, but not now; too conceited to realize the fate is not theirs to decide.

Get Dressed

get fancy.

The Yellow Rose of Texas Beats the Belles of Tennessee

Oh, my heart is feeling weary
And my head is hanging low
But the Gallant Hood of Texas
He raised Hell in Tennessee.

Bye Bye Blackbird

I'm tired of hearing you sing the blues all day.

Supper of Salt

Am I being charmed? Have the flutey tendrils been so apt to confine me with such shallow effort? Or is it just the distraction of a wandering mind? The hollow musings of a weakened foundation that a casual breath could spread across 1,000 continents. But if I am limited to this cold shaky body, let the summer be a warm one. And let the sun wither my body just as this slow moving city has withered my mind and heart.

Dear Lover

You are a delicious cup of Mexican Hot Chocolate, you satisfy me on the cold days; the bottom of your glass is always too sweet to drink, but I drink you to the end. Because it sits here in front of me, and for fear a stranger will sneak up and steal away our best days. perhaps good fortune will refill our glasses, and we will ignore the serpents who tell us we need to grow up. Because the baseball field is no place for romance, and after all you have a deadline.

Because I have a fine sense of Humor

but he doesn't laugh at my jokes.
Maybe I should call up someone serious.

The Sword of St. Michael

Oh glorious Archangel St. Michael, Watch over me during all of my life. Defend me against the assaults of the Demon, assist me especially at the hour of my death, obtain for me a favorable judgment and help me in all my needs, Amen.
In an effort to recapture innocence, we were robbed and the disruption was far beyond monetary. A tear against pleasantness, a grab at well being, a scratch across the face of security. With any luck the floss silk blossom scent will cover up yesterday's must, and Russian Ammonites will be purity's muse.

but together, we made it home. More prepared even, for the broken candles tomorrow will bring.

An Indecent Human Being

A Decent Animal

If you enjoy flesh diseases

Projections, Tiny Dresses, Little Girl Games

I hope the light will always cover the bare skin of my legs, and that this child like feeling can extend to the farther reaches. If I could run up and down the stairs for an eternity, the shadow and outline of my dress to remind me of my own solidity. If I can forget the poison and the bad omens that a hidden scorpion felt inclined to bestow. And the sting that creeps farther into flesh.

the summit doesn't differ from the valley. It's time to leave flowers on the grave of an empty parking space, and contribute to life's beautiful mysteries.

Some Things Last A Long TIme

Like a disinclination towards love; for some, an analogy of sex to the destruction of the Star Wars death star. I suppose it comes from an injury- some organs are more sensitive to scar tissue. and with age the methods of defense against the pains of heart that come from openness become more and more sinister. At some point there is the pure necessity of adaptation: to learn to enjoy the pain until it disappears- or to accept this balmy existence as it is. I can learn to enjoy walking 15 blocks in bare feet at 5am- a direct result in pride and the proving of your own gender. But I don't understand this ironic anger over mystery: Love's one true passion. But how could we expect the temperament of love to abide, when we do nothing but ruffle its feathers in an attempt to get this flightless bird up in the air?


But the truth is, love gives more than one chance; because it's purposes are not destructive, but productive. We have only to abandon our preoccupations and enjoy things for what they are; we have just to choose which things we would like to last a long time.

Some Lovely Days Some Lovely Days

2009, dried flowers, paper bag, sheetrock and sawhorses, dimensions variable
By Bill Conger

On My Pillow, On Your Pillow

I think you are just so pleasant, I would like you for my own.