Fault // Line

Rise Up! 

The season to weep bears no fruit. 

Boxcars blast by selecting the 

frame-by-frame of a dreary horizon. 

Fallow Fertility- what was bred is bad. 

Better believe you hold your hands 

too close to the Fire.

Barriers, fences, all to 

alleviate your eyes of recognition of 

Fault and Fear of Forever. 

Release the wrong which lives a life of luxury-

Lingering in lies, lost in an intricately interlaced

architecture of your own construction.

Spring // Sprung

Cat // Jet

Cherry // Blossom

Sky // Cry

Bramble // Bush

Water // Nymph

(The Fog)

Obnubilation as the synapses cease fire 

Grey eyed and soggysloppy.

Water soluable slide to

someplace remote enough to

hide the echo.

Considerate deliberation sings her song,

not contrite admiration.

Seconds and thirds,

pushes and pulled through the kaleidoscope.
Fractal forgery, trapped lemmings on cliffs.

Seaside dive seems so sweet but for the breath of air

stolen at the pause to commit.


The man with the baby skin

weave a lie so deep

oceans cease to

drain the sands from the vision.

He tell you ya gonna be a star and then

sinks and slays your spirit so sweet

seeking not to supply the sickness with the solemness.


Big mouth secret sickness say over and over how ya gonna be somebody but...

Scattered // Pillars

Ritual // Scavenge

Satie and surf. It's time to return to the water.


In my less than ritualistic life it's nice not to think about anything but the water. Yet as soothing it's surface tension seems, under its veil is just as much activity as under my own. Life, death, scavenger. Feed from the particles that surround us, bleak lights in the dark, sparks of emotion and a generic cooperative spirit. But on the surface the in and out of the waterline ever moving, changing, eroding.

Let's erode it to the bone.


And it's as though our Spring may never come, and when Summer hears of this perhaps She will shy away too? The boats are docked and wrapped, the marinas lifeless as the enveloping grey decays movement, we live suspended in our nuclear winter. 


Contrite and obnoxious Winter halts all rebirth cycles-the buds are too shy to raise their sleepy little leaflets to the sky, and the does search for life within their womb.


I search for reassurance in these symbols of isochronality and none exist - retreat to the water, where at least her voice is there lulling the rest of the world onward.

Hoover // Dam (2)

Hoover // Dam (1)

Birds // Alcatraz

Concrete // Abstract