From my studio notes about
#1, September 2004

September 4, 2004.  Oakland, night.
A new series:
Homely homilies for the elder aged…

1. (this afternoon)
The lonely crisis of old age
when all the past is vast
and the future only small.

2. (tonight)
It was nothing and nowhere
was all we knew
filled with broken scraps
of all we ever loved.

And, I painted that.

And, I couldn’t stand it, and so I clawed it and bled a few bright (now so dark they’re lost) drops into the smear of the claw.

#1, October 2004