Artist Statement 2
All paint is war paint when you’re newly stretched.
Nude of grace, I want to be seen with dignity
Or not all. A plumeria lei is the only noose
The Ethers will allow, fractional ownership
Of grief only. I take the candor of the animals
As birthright, baby gear. It is 5 in the morning
Inside the heart. Outside, the *constantly new darks.*
Pulsing with winks, I’m almost awake. Getting it
Together on a tract of peat marsh swamp, a trophy
For atrophy at great speed. I will not award this
Momentum, nor tag this “over.” I have no energy
For down below. Close to throbbing, I can still swim
Like this in THE AMERICAN TUB. If you’re still mining
For hearts of gold, visit the expert, the exposed
Sleeve, with its apotheosis part, “sling.” No matter
How warped I see the world, it’s my world, cracked
& salty. Nude of grace, I paint it anyway.
Artist Statement 3
Curled like a flesh paisley tucked inside
Autumn, I am a dark & urgent muscadine,
The throb of affectionate climate
When angels slam into me with open lust.
I mainline formaldehyde, ready for famine,
The seizure of progress. I know the butterflies
Are hired pro bono & weakening in the gloaming.
The green diamonds drop my jaw. Like a child
Translator at the Tower of Babel, my days
Don’t make sense but they will. I want to live
True, warm & regulated. Art is my beard,
The etiquette of breaking down. I don’t care
How I die so long as it’s not of exposure.
Artist Statement 4
Smoke-tight, the Venn diagram of Art,
Love & Squalor. Moderns live in a death
Glaze, mostly sending up flares in a zone
Of nullity. Tooth History of New York,
Do you mind if I tongue wrestle you
Into oblivion with my Milky Way mouth?
We artists are moonlighting as children
With cavities. Wreathed in baby’s breath,
If we falter being sweet with ourselves,
Who will carry on in our stead? Farewell
To excess hours ballooning into something
Tart but benign. My Creamsicle, we can’t,
I must, I can’t, we must endorse the cold
Pixels of Beauty to become outrageously pure
Like reverse archaeology, the found remains
Of the future.