Composition 2

Transcript:

This discussion between us exists

to not be addressed; to simply exist.

So in my addressing, I’m crossing a line.

But now, though it's crossed, the line exists only to signal which side to abide by.

Picture two lines now– origin-crossed.

We, the viewer and maker stand quadrants across

To my left, the context

To yours, the work.

I made it; I knew it; held tight to its hand as it grew.

Once grown, it begged me for distance

and lived in its space despite being fed nightly ‘til full.

Now it lives in its quadrant and reaches its hand to hold yours.

Extend it.

Please, hold it.

And know it held mine ‘til it wanted to go.

Acrylic on paper 

2025

Available

Composition 3

Transcript:

It’s easier said than done,

To claim that if I were you, I’d handle the now-you with more care

and open my mind up a little

so you don’t have to go pry me open yourself–

To break me to get me.

Without doing all that, you just understand me.

In our some years together, you’ve boiled me down

to the few parts of me that I’ve shown you.

If I dismiss the distance, will I pass on the duty of bridging it onto now-you?

If I were really you, I’d probably know.

But being you, even just for a second,

feels like derailed potential–

Killing one to save five, with yourself dressed as all.

No question of proof; but if you were to ask

I’d probably mention my semaphore signal’s still stuck in the shape of your past and last stop at my station.

Acrylic on paper 

2025

Available

Composition 4

Transcript:

In my youth I heard wow!

you’re so wise for your age

and, granted, it wasn’t a lie; 

but you don’t know a cookie reheated in plastic has changed in flavor until you’ve already taken a big enough bite.

I ate it for years and it tasted just fine

but palettes develop with time, and, in time, I could taste BPA.

I wrote once that I grew into my wisdom

not that my wisdom grew,

though, I know, the latter is true.

Still, it felt like while small; 

wisdom cloaked me in a size XL.

I ate and I grew

and the wisdom grew with me; just slowly stagnating its flow

to mirror my form more perfectly taut.

Sometimes it expands and I no longer fit it just right

but I always catch up.

If I didn’t, it’d cover my sky.

Acrylic on paper 

2025

Available

Composition 5

Transcript:

They told us we had to stay still.

So we didn’t.

We drove to the coast and 

your lighterlit face glanced out in thought

or to sea

And I, too, lost myself just watching the waves hum aloud.

We left the treeline alone,

unattended, for years after parting our ways.

They tore the woods down shortly after.

No hatchet was found.

No body,

no case.

Who’s to blame for it?

And who’s to place blame

when their motive was money and land

while ours was to be there and be

They’d’ve bulldozed the lot with us gone or chained up to a tree.

Acrylic on paper 

2025

Available