June 10, 2022



(For my friends who tell their stories,

decode their mythologies, who stay curious,

who go forward without looking back, who dare

to inhabit perilous ideas and let themselves

be vulnerable.)


Wounded words that write 

their own poetry, 

minds that are curiously 

tenacious enough 

to paint their imagination:


Clay that shapes 

beneath the broken fingers

because love leads the artist 

into dangerous places.


Feeling lost at times.

and not knowing 

if you dreamt this poem

or it dreamt you,

but as artist we go forward 

and cross our shadows

____ dream our demons

Imagine our angels.


To stop for one moment

and forget who we are suppose to be.

To acknowledge 

that mankind’s human condition

never finds its center

but is constantly edging up 

against its boundaries.


As artist our creativity

is fueled by primitive instinct

and cultural conscience.


If we see ourselves through others

we can create from substance,

not the mirrored reality

but the reality that embeds itself 

deep within our awareness.


The flower leaves the plant

without moaning, without regret

without harming, and without need.


As artist we can create with passion,

with an understanding 

that desire will never

give you what you need, 

will never quench your thirst

or relieve your appetite.

That is not the quest of desire,

desire leaves you hungry,

hunger makes you aware.


We fall in love

to create,

we rise 

and we assent.


It is the will of desire not to be satisfied.

It is the artist who must never diminish 

his or her soul, but to understand 

the only true freedom 

we have to create with 

is within our minds.


In the meantime I offer a synopsis

In the simplicity of a quote

written by Oscar Wilde

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”


Keep creating and keep the faith ____ 



Writing and Image © Gesso Cocteau







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