speak easy, my love.

constantly im searching for answers, seeking out the truth. most of the imagery i use stand for people in my life, or different stages of what im going through in my life. the pinups i use are not in proportion or shown in a way that makes them look real, they are cartoony, garish figures. the birds symbols the need to flee, to try and lift myself up. the birds also are a source of strength for me. when my father passed, there were always birds around after, when i see birds i think of him.

spare, ohs.

the finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney what remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect but their yolk isn't easy in fact it's a drag as they're blowing through cornfields and mountains of rags  all over the suburbs across the great lawns crop-dusting gardens all over this town but nobody cares when it gets in their hair it gets in their lungs as it floats through the air it gets in the food that they buy and prepare but nobody cares when it gets in their hair  across the great chasms and schisms and the sudden aneurisms where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes and your teeth are worth more than you can spare 
oh don't tell me that it just isn't fair don't speak about the cycles of life 'cause your thoughts are so soft i could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife and the wine made our mouths too loose
such a reckless choice of words when you tell me that i'm too obstruce i just thought it was a kind of bird i just stood there not saying a word

one.

we stand worlds apart.

when you're right next to me. 

my ships...

are frozen sticks . they lay stuck to the floor. my wrists and my breasts are bleeding bricks. they don't float anymore.  and my tongue, it's a carbon scroll, doesn't burn anymore. and all my friends are all useless lens, they don't see anymore. and all my chicks are all useless hens, they don't lay anymore.  
and my fists are plastic dice, they're the shape of the sun.  and my love is a long song, gone forevermore.
Gone forevermore, and I like where i live.

my baby is a redbird

flying across the sky. my baby is a bluebird, learning how to fly. your feathers want to tickle me. in the shower he swims right by me. freezing water so he's swimming raidly. clouds are sleeping, sleeping in the sky, over Sarah's eyes... lurking by the bed, and all i'm thinking are all things you said.

you cannot live in the sky.

i will fly away. there is no bird that could keep up. that is just the way it is.

alongside the birds

once there was a giraffe named harold who was so tall his head was in the clouds, in more way than one. he would dream of being able to fly alongside the birds instead of just being able to walk along with them. then one bright afternoon, a strong breeze brushed by and nearly blew him over! then came another breeze. and another. when this last breeze blew by it picked harold up and carried him high into the sky- with the birds!! he was flying!! like he always dreamed he would. But breezes come and go as we all know and just as quickly and the breeze came in and picked harold up .. it let him go.. harold was plummeting towards earth faster and faster until he felt his innards beging to move and all the blood in his body rushing towards his tiny head - now frantic harold tried to go to his happy place... but right before he found it... SPLAT. he fell to earth and became a puddle of blood and broken bones. THE END
ging.maude.
better ending?

cancer.

caustic. catalyst. what have you done?

there is lots more where that came from

<3

bird hands

Images from The Bird Hand Book by Victor Schrager

sensitivity and lynchings

prisoner of my own mind. screaming my lungs out, trapped noise in my closed mouth. i wake up and my legs are bleeding. god, someone please help me. you keep trying to get in but i won’t let you. i wont let you in.

you say that she cries when she hears the bird’s song.

I will learn to cook for you It's one thing that I plan[ned] to learn to do.

did the ironing in a cowboy hat felt as fresh as the paint in this new flat i will never tell you what to do. have ambition simply to see things through did you know i could be a lot of fun i’m aware that friendship can die young as the glow from the street light bled down the langlands road we set off, the best of friends i know where i stand i don’t need you to hold my hand well i’ve tried to get along with you and i asked myself what i’m gonna do i’m coming ’round to take a stand gonna to put us together with glue or an elastic band i know where i stand i don’t need you to hold my hand well i’m softer than my face would suggest and at times like these i’m at my lowest ebb but i know i can confide in you if i cry to set the mood oh please could you cry too? happy new year. you’re my only vice. what if we compromised? i am open.

dig a hole that goes down deep in the ground.

im fallin into this hole and im not sure when ill land. the ground isnt even in sight. you said jump, i closed my eyes and dove in. i feel around in the dark. small pieces of revealed to me bit by bit. anticipation excites and scares me. this landscape is familar and treacherous but this time things are different. explosive. passionate. driven. is this a hole or a tunnel? whiskey on our breaths; kissing in the dark. lethargic bliss.

lady bird

"I love you very much + always have since I first saw + held you. You have made me more proud than you'll ever know."