Planar Pavilion, 2014

plana pavilion

I didn’t feel myself connecting to much of Andrea’s work, however I found the paradox of her sharp edges and the organic shapes of nature to be interesting. This piece in particular stood out to me, mostly because it seemed to be the one exception to the paradox; the industrial coldness in a sense perfectly matches the coldness of the environment. This whole piece shivers. Even the bright red of the metal somehow goes along with the stark and frigid atmosphere.


Connemara Sculpture, Ireland 1971


I went to Connemara and watched the grey birds speckle the

Bruised clouds migrating slow, Great, and powerful, like jurassic raptors, across the sinking sun

I saw her ancient skeletal frame she was a slinking serpent folding her

Placental form around a lopsided brain– and I remember the

Grass, dark and oceanic that day and

There were shy violets freckling what I think was her mouth

And on that mountain I felt an even greater pull to know

Her portal, the cave of story

A feeling only known by snake to charmer who yearns to be

Consumed by his counterpart

The conversation of killer to savior, I decided to

Let her feed upon my flesh

My bones would meet her teeth

She would sink me deep

And I would wait ecstatic to be bitten.

Pill Spill

(couldn’t copy picture)

Boredom pill, happy pill, sad pill, tired pill.

Heart pill, head pill, red pill, blue pill.

Headache pill, toe cramp pill, constipation pill, diarrhea pill.

Strong pill, mild pill, addictive pill, dependent pill.

Where do all these pills come from anyway?

Or what is really in these pills after all?

Even, Can we live without these pills?

Bye, pills.

I’m too sad to tell you (1971)


Words are immobilized

Fused to the interior of my throat

I fiercely gulp air to shake the words loose

But their nails dig into membrane

Choking me

Jaw instinctively tightens

Teeth clench as if chewing bones

Blood thickens, turning face into clay

Eyes dry, blinking sandpaper

I swallow the words to my core

So they can claw at my insides instead

And let me breathe

For at least a moment.

Green Interior

RW11_06GreenInterior_lowI never enter this room in the daylight

The shrill colors blare

And cast an incessant glare

That clouds the air and is much too bright.

But when the sun has departed and the moon is a crescent

The blinding intensity is dwindled

And a desired atmosphere is rekindled

Allowing a relaxed place to feel present.

The muted colors and absence of noise

Let my mind transform into a wanderer

And my secret self turn into a conjurer

And my tranquil soul delights in a state of poise.

I never enter this room in the daylight

The darkness let’s the magic thrive

Awakening my senses, feeling alive

It remains a special secret only known to me and the night.

The Shell de Venus


The Mother, She is bold

Her stretched skin cracks, but She is still whole.

The Feminine, She is fierce

And Her layers tell Her story.

The Goddess, She is beautiful

Her exquisite velvet is the creative force.

The Divine, She is strong

She holds the secrets of the past and the promise of the future.