This is Humphrey. He was stolen from his nest as a baby by a seagull but fell at my feet while I waited for a bus. I put him in my pocket and raised him and he lived with me for 8 years but my superintendent forced me to give him to a friend where he lived for another three years. He was a good friend and I will miss him. He died last week and taught me to speak a bit of sparrow. I have known several birds and they taught me a something about birds. As you can see.





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Thinking With Pattern


Although I grew up in a family of artists it often puzzled me as to why my parents, who frequently explored the locale of New York City and the neighboring areas of New Jersey  for subject matter, chose one view or another to create their water color landscapes. Insofar as complex patterns are concerned, any view of the city and its environs seemed to me to be equally interesting for form and color.

As I matured and started working in graphics this vague puzzle pursued me and it combined with the limitations I had in accurately rendering form which many artists pursued. I could perform in these areas but not with a good deal of ease. I discovered that it was a good deal easier to recognize images than to create them from scratch on a blank surface. This led me to a somewhat different approach to creating what might be interesting. Instead of consciously assembling a pattern I experimented with various pigments based on both water and other liquids such as oil or laquers that dissolve or reject dissolving in a variety of thinners such as alcohol or acetone. After first wetting a surface with water or another liquid I could apply various based pigments or inks using a brush or a bit of foam plastic or merely spattering in various ways.  The wetted surfaces permitted the colors to move amongst each other in various intensities to form very interesting patterns. After they had dried I could copy them into my computer through a scanner and thus make several copies for experiments and retain the original for further exploration. I could also take a pattern and play with color variation and intensity with Photoshop.

Thus I created a base source for future work with recognizing images in these random forms and intensifying that recognition with whatever skills I could manage with my basic artistic skills, a kind of Rorschach process wherein it is much easier to recognize an image than to create one originally. It is quite surprising how photographic  some random patterns can be.


This same pattern turned upside down created a new image


And here are further images using the same approach.


















We All Collect



One must always consider one’s self.

This is the quiet point from which

All disturbances arise.

To be realistic,

The external is the center.

Perception is peripheral.

Nevertheless, since we fabricate by collage,

A thunderstorm, a feather, and the scent of sea

Is enough to make a world.

Enwrapping all is outside human capability.

The bundle is too bulky

And will break your back.

So, we collect.

Each with a shopping cart full of rags,

Here a bone from a pterosaur, green bottles,

A few empty tin cans, two clear glass marbles,

The photo of a child, the dried leaf of a fern.

And – if you are assiduous and realistic,

A small, rusted, locked, steel box

Full of concentrated pain.

Listening closely, one can hear

Faint screams.




A cheese roll and a coffee cup

To accompany the morning chatter of the radio

Nattering of menaces out of Iraq,

Dull appraisals with Chicken Little qualities

Submissive to the coercive governmental claque.

Propaganda channeled through diverse media,

But, at end, persuaded by convergence to attack.

No attempt to disguise the latent fear

Solidified by vivid transmissions of the event,

The Hollywood catastrophe of collapsing towers

Which lived grotesquely both in fantasy and fact

Revealing the cavern where the nightmare cowers

That its chill tentacles strew across the morning floor

To re-enforce hysteria from governmental powers.

There is no question that the threats are real.

But there is the sense that it is being used.

A tool to shake the ordinary quality of living.

Outright violation of firm civil regulation.

Violence from laws over-unforgiving.

There seems to be a plan in this assault on liberty

Generating counter hysterias , thoughts misgiving.

Aside from this war crisis that turns the nation jittery,

Other surreptitious governmental legislation

Wearing sheepskins of civilian stewardship

Are slyly slipped into a wary system

Judicial nominations engineered to tip

Legalities into abysses of unctuous hypocrisy

Punishing the poor, the sick, the deprived with legal whip.

Foundations are shifting. The epicenter at New York

Has spread its fissures across the continent.

No ground is secure. Rigidities begin to crumble.

Official nonsense corrodes good humane sense.

Outraged appeals are stifled down to a mumble.

This is glory hour for mindless vengeful hate.

No room for reason. It’s flagellation time for the humble.

Our callous idiotics are mounting for the thrust

For the destructive contest of stupidities out there.

Soon will bloody body fragments play at circus.

Internal organ parts will somersault in crimson sprays.

Heads and hands and toes will vaporize, a hocus pocus

Of the military, indiscriminate in distributed democracy.

A gift of raging explosions in conflict’s insane locus.

And for what cause? Will this horrid exhibition

Be the surgery to cure the total cancer

That has metastasized to penetrate out to the tips

Of every energy that engines our power,

Or is it frustrated fury that screams and grips

The species in a spastic termination

To leave the landscape scattered with silent lips?

The Credo of Libido



A nice piece of ass

May seem rather crass

For those who seek higher assessments.

But a guy and a lass

Can enjoy a hot pass

As long as its love, not aggressments.

And age never withers

The stuff sex delivers

Those soul seeking wreaking delights

For nostalgia can’t match

What real touching can hatch

With our time to sublime happy nights.

It’s always a treasure

To discover great pleasure

Either sober or high as the kites.

So age does not gauge

What’s silly or sage

Since good sex has very few blights.

Airport Security



Hey, guys, dolls, let’s get real.
No big deal for a friendly feel.
A happy cop grab for your crotch
Raises greetings just a notch.
Appropriate in this biz
Would let you then reach for his.

“We grope in hope”
Is the scope
Of Uncle Sam’s police.
“With open fly
We attain the sky
Plus a bit of elbow grease.”
No terrorist
Can resist
This noble grab of ass,
While small diversions
In perversions
Are permitted with First Class.

When we scan you
We unman you.
X-rays nail your sperm.
Their frying beam
Makes them scream
No matter how you squirm.
So come with me
And we shall see
With what you can make love.
No bombs can hide,
I must confide
So I’ll don my rubber glove.


Grave Thoughts



If one does not despair
For lack of light and air
A grave can be a rather comfy place.
After all, when you are dead
With a heavy tombstone at your head
Lying quietly is no disgrace.
Otherwise with Fitch and Abercrombie
You can become a well dressed zombie
And munch for lunch on the human race.
But, in general it’s true,
There really isn’t much to do.
Eternity’s a boring thing to face.
And time grinds on inexorable.
Rats and worms are not adorable
But very good to you, erase.