RIP sweet canon

This is the last photo I ever took with my lovely little camera. farewell dear, and godspeed.
our love may have been short-lived, but we sure gave it all we got. 

paint pen exclamations

What is this here?

And they sucked in his skin

like it was cotton.

A bellyful of brightness where

we can set off

tiny metal fires.

I love that cave of death,

with machinations of spindly weeds

and sweet arrogance you can press into

and smell deep.

An endless goblin fascination,

look at what you appear to be.

Hear the shrieking slaughter of

lint machines, churning

on and on and

into groggy dawn from night.

Know the perfect face, and how

we traipse through the day

like it was nothing, with

fingers like the tentacles

of an inane bubble sea.

The small spaces in us

breathe heavier,

lumps in the throats of

transparent bedrooms, watch him

cock his head to clear the sweat

from between us.

What is good taste if not

an artful evasion for the sick of self.

walking, running, viking

 

fungus amongus (and where are we to go?)

 

le weekend de BFF

 

sabine.

you say my name

like the notes of a keyboard,

bright and simple and like

a child.

we were founded upon

bonfires and sunrises

and searching for a dry spot of ground

to sleep,

blanketed in spider bites and rain drops

and each other.

you helped me see my art

where it always laid in wait,

in space and time,

of only a porch and two weeks.

that smell of smoke and syrupy ink,

spreading, saccharine,

down your arm

and into fingers

made of the blackest rainbows.

such sweet, dark things we are,

demolishing the night

with a derby of dementia and dissonance.

the fall christening of the porch.

 

farm party revisited

attack of the killer cherry tomatoes.
denise.
megan.
 

farm party

rufus, the resident hawk.
ding kong, one of my favorite people on earth. i think the clothes explain these feelings. you should also see his ass shake.
ding! 

heat and lethargy

 

tequila party fridays

 

wine party thursdays