Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial/Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while/But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues/You can tell by the way she smiles/See the primitive wallflower freeze/When the jelly-faced women all sneeze/Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeez, I can't find my knees"/Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule/But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel
                                                                                           from Visions of Johanna
                                                                                           Bob Dylan

It is here in idleness, I am real.
                                      Tu Fu
                                                  


Artist's Statement as if it were one
my painting has been tarantulized... a hairy image-eating spider that might be drunk.

today is a handkerchief.
woke walkin’ to the smell of cold autumn grass and a oak full o’ sun
other words are hot coffee clipclop new boots and whaddyasay thattaway?
I’m atta loss for anotherwords and dollars and don’t know my own claim to fame
and who is or was or wasn’t inducted into the Hall of Billy the Name
the aluminum foil and great beard of factory boohoohoo?
so stuffed a strawberry field without a shadow of a doubt and a shroud of uncertainty
up my envelope and knew it was the beyond the turning wheel-on-fire of birth and death
and the Post-Post-It-Postum-Post-Modern-Post-Officer-Post-Hyphen-Nation
and life as a cigar.

With apologies to Dr. Freud, Monsieur Duchamp, Monsiuer Derrida, Monsieur Deleuze, all the french misters, and all the smoking skin-bags full of ideas,
​“Where is my alarm clock?”