lording above me is the memory of a full full floating moon.  partaken amongst parallel lines, i parch my throat in abundance of summery late night past times.  times past or yet present, the creation of art is evading me and is a thing unto itself.  the creation of art is the passing of time, or the documentation of something floating in the air that has come to find me in the midst of a boring battle and made me concerned with flying upon the wings of my fingers as they flit about ivory keys.  

or not, for I am moneyless.  

i no longer disregard my creations due to my lack of conventional understandings and undertakings.  despite my lack of technique in every area, i have summoned my own type of technique.  A technique of presence.  Following the energy that pulses within and without and hoping i am nothing enough to allow beautiful, authentic things to pass through me.

or not, for there exists no I. 










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painting landscapes for the inner ear.
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