This is another of my favorites from Primitive, although it would be hard to explain why.
Is it, perhaps, because the shoulder of one is the mouth of the other? Possibly.
But then there are the eyes, which, for half a day yesterday,
Followed me around the room. “My card, sir.”
Almost Einstein
2010
#2 Pencil on Index Card
Almost Einstein
Imagine a hard-working composer paging through his music,
relieved and thinking he is done, coming upon this in his score.
“Dear Lord. What am I writing for?”
“The high notes and low notes, of course.”
“And which, pray tell, are you?”
“We? We are the many. We are the few. We are you.”
Music Lesson
2010
#2 Pencil on 4 x 6 Index Card
Music Lesson
2014
Canvas 423
The ancient texts of solemn trees. Bird tracks at my feet. Late-night lights in the widow’s house. Lichens on headstones. Thrice-woven wool. Galaxies that resemble scattered straw. Notebooks filled. A wealth of steam. The luck of rice. dew in the dust on the old man’s mailbox he reads his letters twice
2010
On the wall above an antique oak dining chair
upon which rest a thrift store ukulele
and two Marine Band harmonicas in the key of C.
Canvas 124
2017
Canvas 967
2010
Is black the thread that keeps these stars fastened to my coat?
Nevermore
From a distance, he probably looks like an old tree stump
in a drained lake bed, but from here, a bust preparing for takeoff.
Or maybe he’s just landed? Half thought, half drought?
Canvas 1,225
2017
Again and again, while sifting through old drawings,
I find myself stopping at this face. Or maybe I simply find myself.
Canvas 840
