Sanity is sexy and the madman sighs...

the divine signet of the cult of the eternal autumn

the devil lived in a 3D galaxy but only had limited interaction with the fourth and fifth dimensions

                                                                                            spray paint on canvas

Walk softly

Walk softly indeed

When the monster gleaming

Lurks in the nearby trees

Lost Ink from the '90's

I'm posting this in honor of the blue moon. This was done in ballpoint a long time ago.

a dark star in the gloaming effervescence

                                                                           
                                                                                                   acrylic 12x12

Ohleeohtoe and the dance of the Dreamtini, fabled effigy of a rhythm immortal. We’re eating the aroma of the night. Next stop breakfast town. 

cannibalized creative process endured

                                          This is actually a close up photo of the cardboard
                                          that I have on my work table. It is the result of paint
                                          used on many different paintings.

dreaming snails own the secret of the universe

                                    A dream actually told me how to paint this one.

The only difference between the monk and the madman is that crazy people live with it and the enlightened live for it. Either way it’s the same.

pohanka propaganda on display

My art is on Display for the month of July at:
Bixby's Cafe 1608 Woodland Ave. Duluth
and
Takk for Maten 11 east Superior St. #100
in the Tech Village downtown Duluth

a pattern in the absence

The truth is no truth and something but the truth.

a static representation of the bing

                                     Please Stand By

                                                 then TV static

                                      be kind erase your mind

                                                             erase your mind

                                        the brainwashing machine

                                                                     

                                                                            dreams of us

the sacred coat of arms of the purple and orange deep space armada

Charlie Browns Nightmare

blooming ink

Somewhere in a town named Rancidville USA all the midwests gloom shimmers in the shadow of a factory. A monolith of rust and industrial retardation, cemetery of a paycheck lost on booze and gasoline. Here is a smog clogged lung gasping for redemption at the end of a cigarette butt. Here is the hope that will crawl up out of the dust.

shamans last rite

somewhere beneath an

alcoholic winter sky,

a new found god reels

drunk on revelation,

brow beaten sanity

hovering against the edges

of epiphany

teal saved the day and this painting looks like stained glass

Digitally remastered reality. Recycled consciousness in a hand basket. Enormously misinformed is the definition that conforms. Egocentric centripetal force. Of coarse of coarse. Immersed in the ebb ‘an flow this discourse drains me yet recharges my karmic battering ram. Writers shock can not block this inner clock. Slow motion devotion to unseen energies engraved on the frontal lobe. It doesn’t dissipate, a transfer of momentum rolls on the wheels of sudden execution. The illusion eludes understanding by appearing to be understood.

a square portal of unique wisdom

Honesty spews out like poison bursting from a rotting blister of truth. All the consequences are thoroughly mapped out in the accusations. Eviction notices have been stapled to the foreheads of common sense. We’ve already convicted ourselves with confessions that we wear boldly like halloween masks.

freezing apostrophes at the end of cold yeses  the terminal sentences drag on and on despite the dramatic punctuation! throwing opinions around like confetti,  fat lipped quandaries and black eyed objections, did i forget to mention i just really don’t care