The summer is gone in a flash. To downsize, my life does not fit comfortably. I leave my guitars and pack. My photo equipment tightly in a red canvas bag. When I leave the house the night is still there. And the stars are brighter than ever. In the airport I argue with the security officials. Please do not open that box. On its lid I have written. With it in the backseat o.

NO PSEUDONYMS for this author. SOME AMAZING BLOGS I READ. You can find my works via my amazon author profile and check.

Notes from a Southern Kitchen. On this date in 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. HOWEVER, some of those who MLK fought for lead the racism charge at every turn.

Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy. On December 7, 2016. Faces melt beneath their beards. On December 6, 2016. Of the flaws in himself. It will not be molded. It must find its form.

Creating art on the big canvas and the small ones too. One of the remaining osprey keeps watch from a nearby oak tree. After a few days, I saw the second young bird return.

Crashing into ink-stained purgatory since 2012. But dependent on the winds. The sign of the dollar. Forces other, lesser, gods.

Bringing Out the God-Colors in the World. Explaining my Tattoo to Kids of the Inner City. I thought it was simple to understand. Especially since so many of them understand the significance of a cross. Or at least a squad.