Who am I to say that I am an artist? / Itʼs the wanting / the need to express…
You lose / your pen with / the red and blue and black ink
mom, what’s loo-skeem-ya? / oh okay — does that mean I’m loo-skeem-ya?
I take a deep breath / to calm myself / before walking into the storm / of OR shadowing.
On the other side there is a home, / With green grass, red rosebushes, and a pool where sharks swim in the deep end.
There lives a city only with pairs permitting. / Two lungs move together with love in the air / she takes his breath away when they’re a pair.
Is this man or is this flesh / That implores my expertise? / Is it meat or is it human / When we meet, which do I see?
What happened to you? / I don’t remember / Did it hurt? / Yes boy, oh yes
The scent of illness, stifling and spoiled / Masked by antiseptics.
What an endeavor it is: / To reach out and touch humanity.
Blood flakes / fall onto the /blue, sterile field from / crimson-smeared green / light grips.
She suffers from bouts of amenorrhea. / She masticates as often as the day is black.