Here
… Death Talk at Moonsugar Gate
Zebulun’s comet flashes like a derailed pendulum. A hot stone mad with joules.
The vast temple in the void. A slow tomb full of elegant regret. The portal is always open, is always closed. The whistle of space being compressed. We believe danger dances most truthfully when death closes its eyes before throwing the dart.… Read More
A dark and quiet place
I’ve had 7 studio spaces in my life.
1. The floor of my teenage bedroom, half-way in the closet with a shade-less lamp. I would spill paint on the carpet and cut it out with scissors (sorry mom.) I would work after everyone else went to bed, staying up through the wee hours of the morning drawing not very good surrealist pictures and pasting together maybe-pretty-dope-still collages.… Read More