A flower made out of flowers a rose inside of a rose a day of flowers and roses of books and kisses awkward hugs and sideward glances a dimple on the cheek, a mole on the forehead a crooked nose, an uneven jaw plentiful teeth that morph into two smiles orderly and unorderly questions are asked and answered none an arm's distance, a safe length closing doors and a train's ride a momentary pause, while thoughts collide walking from dawn until dusk and when night falls a day of

Is spring really here i hear the birds tweeting screeching behind worms in delight the trees bristling boldly flowers lay carpeted across grass the sun glistens over untainted waters kissing the shores ever so gently fruit laden trees bear heavy secrets waiting to ripen and burst forth into the air the mountains are shying away from the sun hiding within the clouds spring is shy, this time around ----S

language informs our thinking, maybe even our feeling whistling languages drums that beat hearts that flow and eyes that see spikes on a surface, both high and low is this thinking? is this feeling? inputs - electric, chemical and optic cultured cells on an electrode plate signals of memory abate is this thinking? is this feeling? sensory worlds collide in this extraction of semantics from seeming non-beings trying to become a play of words movements in environment

A mountain goat that walks its life on a ledge to lick the last crystals of salt on rock millenia of biological memory swarming in that single cell that craves for a reward, a chemical treat, an electrical impulse hoping they don't wander afar, in search of momentary bliss the higher and higher, the fall steeper it helps to not look down the taste of bliss lingering on the tip of its tongue treading the thin crack of stone it is not lonely up there, they slowly realize salt c

At Mozfest. Self promotion is hard for an artist, talking about the work even harder. How lucky did I get when I got placed right next to a comfortable sofa at my installation space for Mozilla festival. I sat quietly and observed kids and adults walk past the installation. A pause, some intrigue and many questions. Some even came back to see the artwork again. Most didn't know I was the artist, and I stayed behind as I felt my explanation would kill the artwork. This was the

Love is small, life is huge inside a beating heart that speaks of desire to live to breathe in, expanding and contracting running into a green field with arms wide open screaming into the sky in broad daylight fresh like the morning dew on a blade of grass birthing every moment anew a blooming flower that picks up the bees from the air in stillness, finding companions from afar, a place unknown or a shooting star that enters an atmosphere burning itself on the way through giv