Thursday, May 2, 2013

Triptych

Stuck between a rock and a hard place

My hands are what hold me, my feet are what carry me

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Art and Poetry

I never thought my sight would deteriorate
Appreciate? It’s too late.
The face in the mirror is just a palette of colors,
I see or I don’t, one or the other.
The times that I don’t
it’s more interesting smelling smoke
feeling soft coats
and eating egg yolks.
Nothing is what it seems
even your face is like a dream.