Red Head

She's so good at Tetris
and so bad at holding
onto subway poles
Her red coat
and red head
She's good at smiling
in every direction
A rosy complexion
especially with gin
She's my Russian
and with
a wink and a grin
we're home

Wood Turning

It spins so fast you pay attention to a fuzzy edge and the feel of your tool. Sometimes you can shave off a year or more of growth in one pass, a different kind of time machine. The motor hums and the chisel purrs as you bring shape to that which already had shape, bringing use to that which already had use.

Those Autumn Leaves

Those Autumn leaves
danced in the dark alley
in circles they swirled
like dervishes
as we folded fitted sheets
we danced around in socks
and flannel to a song
of the last dryer turning
The warm knitted blanket
soft in our hands
like we are soft in our hands
and the homemade pizza
warm in our mouths
as the cold wind looked on
through our window
in jealousy to what
we had happening
The oven gave off
a most welcome heat


Prediction True

Train dancers
should all be given
a TV show
so I can remote control
I don’t know if the dancing
hurts more or the music
and we are all monkeys
flying through space

Show time folks!
What time is it?
Show time!

Why, that brunette
has a big baguette!


New Friend

I pretended to sleep this morning
Although the hangover was real
I could not muster the courage
to say goodbye
Last night we all broke bread sharing food, whiskey and wine
We were all smiles and we were rich with joy and laughter
Now I am another floor mat of my own making
But you, you
you were a delight and now
In better body and mind
I wish you well on your
many journeys new friend


From Midtown

D Train to Ferlinghetti's
Coney Island Of The Mind
In Autumnal evening bliss
Lost in the text nearing
The Atlantic Ocean and
Grey dulling skies high
Again over the holy land
That borough land the
Land of Kings Brooklyn
Many tongues all of them
Speak the language of
Love high over car washes
And laundromats and buffets
Drugs, Wine and Liquors a
Slice of the American strip mall
Pie piled so high so high you
Could die an unnatural death
In this land this foggy land
Where the smell of Nathan's
Famous hotdogs penetrates
The haze of old glory



I found a strand of my wife's
hair on my coat sleeve.
Glimmering its synthetic red
I was not prepared to be
with a part of her
in that moment.
That strand
That strand
Was only a fragment
of the one I wholly
loved and did not
in that moment have.

Fathers and Sons

I see fathers
walk with sons
and think of
what a man is
a man in
this strange place
where he is
to become the
man he is
destined to be
I see fathers
walk with sons
on shoulders down
Sterling place and
Washington Avenue in
Autumn in America


If only

all good books
were so able
to slip snuggly
into back
pockets of
levi jeans

maybe then
reading would be
more fashionable

Untitled: Two Visions

A pregnant
woman rubs
her great
bulge with
a soft
mother's touch

A man stands
At Grand Street
station eating
a bowl of
The bowl is
decorated with
peonies and smell
of cinnamon

First Day of School Blues

First day of school blues
Putting on new socks
Lacing up new shoes
Traffic jams around
The block is chock
Full of joyous kids
Full of saddened parents
Full of joyous parents
Full of saddened kids
Hip High Schoolers
curse the day
with slim cigarettes
Complaints are fashionable
in brand name jeans To some, Monday means
another Monday/Funday
Manhattan Bridge
Manhattan Bound
B Train to Midtown
where the sounds
of those old kids buzz in offices
and through streets
cheap delis and
between the sheets
Don't play dumb
with your smartphone
has us in a tangle
What will it be
like on Tuesday?



The bourbon babes
and moonshine musketeers
together howl
in the cool
of night.

Below 42nd Street

Earth to Beanz-
Earth to Beanz-
The white scrawled
intimation reads.
Subterranean shadow
scholarship signal

The pipe bender's
pipe bender lays
at rest unbending.


Sandwich Swag

A pretty girl
stepped on the train
and met your eyes
She stole a breath
and a heart beat
Nothing's left but
love and sandwiches
Missed your stop
brushing crumbs
Time well spent

Chime In

Bikers and walkers dodge
weaving between traffic
Those whispering cabbies
Millions of faces and smiles
murmurs and shouts and horns
Steel wheels of the subway roar
Jackhammers pounding floors
Trucks, balloons and parades
Church bells ring out the hour
Children play a universal play
Eat, drink and be merry
Back of the bus ponderer
Windows, signs and awnings
One block can be a poem
Friends, family and lovers
come and go and tomorrow
on a park bench in Brooklyn
a man reads his sheets
Resting a tired old head
on today's headlines
Somewhere near here
a jazz band swings old tunes
The people dance great dances
A tenor sax man wails
He gives and gives and they get
throw back stingy brim hat
and houndstooth suit
filling the room with color
painting without a brush

Linger On

Persistence is
extended existence
and resistance
All these Altoids
We must be brave
Sunlight cascades
Across glass and stone
facades and flags
And stonewashed
under butt
short shorts
In September
They say
War drums
are beating
Coltrane accompanied
by the gurgle
of drip coffee
The song of
the last cicadas
can be heard
echoed in a few
distant trees
children playing
in the shade below
make the proudest

Wash Away

Wash away your sins
In the back of a bar
Men's room sink
Called Sharlene's
Off the avenue
A woman stands
With a gold name tag
Reading 'Embellishment'
A couple speaks
Of arugula and green beans
Every mirror reflects
Something honest
And something different
It's your father's birthday
Four fans spin
In opposing unison


Neon Yellow Glow

The neon yellow glow of her skirt beamed through like the morning sunrise in an eastern room. Out shining her beauty it could not be contained. It spilled out all over the stainless subway walls and constellation rubber floors. The world blind to it but one woman. Clad in black and white with brown fringe bag, she sees me. Seen seeing. A witness. A man gives his testimony blessing and thanking all and Jesus. The words fall short under the rumble of steel tracks and rolling wheels painted out by a neon yellow glow.

Rest Old Man

Rest old man, your tired eyes
Your dull pencil in Sudoku
Fire red skin from blazing sun
The days are getting shorter
Yet still just as long
Night is coming
Tomorrow is another day
Many are your fathers
Many are your sons
The past is in your face
Now’s the time
Until your time
They are special

See young man
Wise in years
A fool in years
Whiskey was my wish key
Many are your mothers
Many are your daughters
The present is in your eyes
Dawn will soon come
Your time is now
Sink your well well
Drink deep from the earth
Savor all fruits
You will come to know

NYC 8-22

A young Chinese boy is mesmerized by an old Jewish man's whispering mouth, the words from his holy book. A beautiful woman rests her eyes behind sunglasses. A little girl plays with her father's face while in his arms. That's New York. It's good to be here.


Studio Notes: Artist Statement: 2013

My current work explores the ideals, pitfalls and mythological aspects of “The American Dream.” I aim to use my historical perspective in coming of age with the internet to apply and comment on the unraveling results of 20th century developments in American politics, commerce and social life. My process is appropriation-based wherein I collect and archive digital and traditional print media to generate collage work in physical and digital formats. The source images and texts are recycled, filtered and re-constructed into narratives and given new contextual frameworks and considerations. This body of work is the result of manipulated imagery that is magnified and enlarged into paintings and drawings. The labor process provides time and meditative freedom to engage the content. The new images attempt to use humor and surrealist devices to internalize the effects of middle-late capitalism and its role in what we believe our individual dreams should or should not contain. I view the process as a playful means of repossessing large pervasive issues for the self.