Origin
Creeping along the endless beach amid the sunsquawl and the foam, it occurs to us that we, too,are the product of sea-slime. Henry David Thoreau, Cape Cod
Creeping along the endless beach amid the sunsquawl and the foam, it occurs to us that we, too,are the product of sea-slime. Henry David Thoreau, Cape Cod
Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn inme. Moral reform is the effect to throw off sleep. Henry David Thoreau, Walden
2016 installations with voices imprinted of Boston Chinatown residents’ interviews A slideshow with photography by Hanna Estice and courtesy of Sasaki
The Innocent State of Sleep He enters the canvas right about where The nude lady unrobes for her bath. If and only if, forgive their rudeness When no one responds to the intruding What a beautiful day! Quietly, he takes position behind the big tree. Immersed in observation. The brushstroke would not mind a bite. But instead,… Read more →
A Father’s Last Conversation Whether God exists has never been the real divider, but the interpretation of what God is. Duped into slavery, they believed working as serfs would help them pay back the White Establishment of the New World for helping them come to America, settle in, and own lands. They got buried deep into servitude and Stockholm Syndrome… Read more →
Communication In the dark, I question how I feed. There, I wake up blind, mute, and dead-like. There, I am paralyzed from head to toes. I run fiercely through unlimited options from Dawn to Dusk. I need to feed my mouth, my skin, my brain, Becomes my daily breath and mantra. The flies caress my soon to be pruned skin…. Read more →
Reflective of Becoming A broken mirror suffers the journey of becoming. The need to have a companion. Offer support in the journey of becoming The sacrifice of self Celebrate differences in unity. A Broken mirror in the journey if becoming. Impregnated reflection, a feather adrift Drunk in blue and green inks. Wandering the streets of Bourbon City. The Southeastern Wind… Read more →
Juxtaposition How could You Mango tree stand there, Tell me I am invading your privacy? Even the blind man knows this: When it comes to privacy, No tree mango or cassava has a say in it.
Rosebud Disturbance vibrates acidity. Lend your captivating taste buds, To turn chaos into roses. Lend your enduring humility, To avert drowning justice and equity. Compose Your lines, Your colors, Your forms, To mend the philosopher’s story.
A Pink Rose of Wisdom and Music Shots Rosy cheekbones meet his gaze with pride. In a silence film noir, The statute poses for the artist. Brush strokes upon brush strokes, The eye bruises his nakedness. Sharpens intensity into razor blade energy. A coherent metamorphosis of Lines, forms and colored vibrations. The wind captures the madness in loose trousers To… Read more →