Slow down, all you peppermint haters. Some flowers open at night and sweat out weddings, filling the air with scents of satin and sentimentality. Singsong photographs of comet and cola. If these months are cinnamon hearts.

So i guess this is a place to put thoughts, work and expression in all forms. Spots that have nothin,. Nothing to do with liver. With metallic salt rusted cadavers. Beat of red flashes and sticks. Tail pipe snapshots only a blurr. I wrote this finally for. As in the self that needs. Somewhere - but in your head.

Saturday, January 23, 2010. North of Quesnel, with steady hands. A lumberman falls another tree. With this wood he longs to build. A house, to warm it, stand upon its roof. And know the strength beneath him,. Shape a cane for when his back. Has weakened, a chair to sit in,. A table to work from. To carve a birdhouse from the. Smooth heartwood of these trees,. Whittle a family in perfect proportions,. Toys for the children, a night stand. One in each hand, if.

Here is some of the stuff i have been working on. Friday, August 26, 2011. Trying to get your attention. Sunday, May 02, 2010. Fuck your good and bad hair days. I have good and bad body days. I see myself change daily.