My Love For Ink


I think what lures me to use ink is the fact that it flows so naturally for me. Similarly to when I start writing on paper. They way it interacts with the materials is so stunning; creations become natural and unplanned. Mistakes can become tiny masterpieces and some mistakes can be hair pulling death sentences. It took me so long to become comfortable with drawing. I couldn’t find my voice. So when I first began using ink, it was like finding the right note to a song.




But You’ve Had So Many Memories With It


I wonder…

how many hours you spent sitting down,

playing each key,

finding a rhythm,

dancing to the beat.

Then some keys fell off.

I wonder…

how many days you spent trying to ignore it,

playing without it,

finding a way to skim over,

dancing your fingers around it,

Then some keys stopped ringing.

I wonder…

how many weeks you spent imagining,

playing the note in your head,

finding the faint memory of the notes,

dancing to the made up rhythm.

Then you just gave up.

I wonder…

how many months you kept it there,

playing with the idea of

finding a spot in the garage,

dancing from yes and no.

Then you threw it away.

But you’ve had so many memories with it.

Oh Tiny Silhouette


Oh tiny silhouette,

how delicate you must be.

Moving, shifting, crawling,

between the chain-link fence

Doing acrobatics from link to link

Tending to your home,

Simply in a second

your lungs are filled with toxin

up and up and away your legs go

bending, curling, breaking,

Contortionist in your own home.

Oh tiny silhouette

how delicate and dead you must be.