Interior Doors

RECYCLED DOORS
Home
NEVER USED DOORS
RECYCLED DOORS
RECYCLED DOORS
RECYCLED DOORS
RECYCLED DOORS
ARCHIVES (SOLD)
The Image Company
Back to Art Gallery
Order/Contact



**************************************************************

THE SUNSET AT DUSK 18X75"
72.sunset.jpg

sunset.jpg

I am a San Franciscan, living in the Sunset by the ocean's edge, and close to what is known to be the Land’s End. The gaping Egyptian mummies, along with Tom Thumb’s tiny wardrobe, stand watch against time down the stairs in Adolph Sutro’s museum of oddities.

In the still of the night a chorus of roaring lions and Howler monkeys blends with the solitary peacock's wail, and mingles with the swelling tide of barking sea lions and lonely fog horns, and with the braying of Laughing Sal from beyond the pair of grey Dutch sisters standing as sentinels on the western edge of the city I call home. The peculiar cacophony of sound creates within me an unusual landscape, and a strangely fascinating desire to gaze upon rare things emerges from deep within.

I walk through secret doors in order to touch the sublime and while wandering behind the wall of the everyday,  I find myself the painter who creates doors for others to engage.

**************************************************************

ALL I GOT
72AllIGot.JPG



The capacity of
a heart is both
infinite and not.

A thing of
boundless  love
it can be broken,
a source of
endless hope,
it is betrayed.

To the heart all
things eternal,
and so, forever
it is blind. It
cannot see the
storm as it
encrouches, nor
the waxing of
the morning
orb’s approach.

Though destitute,
the heart is wont
to dream. In
endless pain the
jealous heart
resides.

I cry out to the
Maker, when forever
all is lost, and dance
with fervent rapture in
my eternal bliss.

**********************************************************************************

Wake Me When I'm Dead
39.Esparcen.jpg

Firefly’s flicker ‘til the
dawn, keeps darkness
back until I’m gone.
Nine times ten,
it’s time to go. Stick my
iron in the snow.

Seen my buddies come
and go, spider spins its
web too slow. Can’t find
time to make things right,
leave my footprints
here below.  

Call me later when I’m
gone and pushing daisies
through your lawn. Old Saint
Peter’s called my name. Lived
my life but not in vain.

Feed the dog and stoke
the fire, I’ll be back if
you desire.

To whisper
stories in your ear,
when the firefly makes
its light appear, in the
middle of the night.

 

BACK

NEXT

Powered by WebRing.