Jackson

No name for those steps I sat on, where the sun sings through the leaves, where the old stone is painted and marked by pilgrims who give what they have, words, marks, symbols. I used my little knife, carved a crude tetrahedron, its sides not as equal as I wanted, to say I’d be back… Read more

At the endthe days are long and hotand the nights are long and cold.The only plants leftrepel tongues, survivefire. The only animals leftcan hide anywhere.The few remaining humans, knowingno more, suck faint amityfrom the bitter needles, greyishtrees, grey creatures and greyand ochre rock.Earthface thrusts out flare-flowers: one more vanity:howl-azure, shriek-cerise, desperation-gold. First published in Creatrix… Read more

I want to give you everything I have while still keeping it all for myself And I want to take nothing, not your freedom, never that I don’t want to change you I love you just as you are shitload of pain and all for no reason at all: simply I can see your depths… Read more

(Portrait of Rita) Commissioned 2009. This work may not be reproduced by any process, including printing, without permission. In all she did, she loved. The glow of her! Her Welsh voice, its gentle lilts and rolls a balmy pool with bubbles, waves and ripples. Her lipstick-pretty mouth. Her peach-bloom cheeks. Her neatly cultured brows and… Read more