Tuesday, January 21, 2014


(Bullfight III by Pablo Picasso)

Still that naked child inside 
squeezing her eyes,
striving only
to please.

My first memory in life?
A time where I did not.

But the future sways
like the matador's cape
in Hemingway's hands
or Picasso's brush

calling me out
with every flash
and snap

of passion,
and sacrifice.


Friday, January 3, 2014


sunrise to sunset
time is the iron shackle
and the last crusade