Tripartite

A pigeon that gathers in the alley I’ve thrown him crumbs someone must have scared too much to trust me today. Ahead, a drunk swerves on the sidewalk just as I am approaching He doesn’t see me behind and he staggers from side to side and coughs when I try to go around him again…

The Diamond

Showing love for the game of baseball. Rjh

Horror Art

My illustrations like this show my my fascination with horror. The Night Stalker, The X-Files, and Millennium were all television shows that had the psychological content that I try to portray in much of my illustration. The X-Files on VHS came with two collector’s cards with artwork that I like. Also, the artwork for Neil…

Norman

Though my teeth sit on the shelf behind the mirror and gravity has hammered my spine into an “S,” I remain frozen behind my passing molecules, the moments of my memory shaking. I was looking through some old works of mine to see how I had done them and I came across this incompletion. I…

The Red Wagon

by RJ Hoffman Just as Heidegger’s imagination could conceive the experience of a peasant when looking at Van Gogh’s painting of a pair of shoes, most anyone who writes can tell a story from a picture. I was watching a performance of John Cage’s 4 33 the other day and realized there wasn’t much difference…

Is On Ys

I am still working on a decent take for the Youtube video of the 10th song from American Success Story. So I thought I would begin presenting the lyrics of the next work in progress after American Success. Follow the link after the poem to play the track. Is On Ys Don’t always mean a…

Spring Cleaning

by Ronald J. Hoffman   I walk through the corridor I light the candle to see I brought the proof of what is prophecy. I walk in the room Discover the place I’ve been In the corner of the womb of our disgraced existence. I look upon the shelf pull down the book to see…

Tangled Treasures (While I Sweep)

I can see your portrait in a corner, in the dust hear your voice shrill as door hinges alive with rust time can’t steal your features as the car rolls down the hill Your arms pressed forward and your head snapped back froze in a pose that can never look back. I find your silhouette,…

Talking Can Be Virtue Too

“Talking can be love too,” said he who lives in a house where no one speaks unless spoken to. “Virtue, too, can be a vice. Virtue isn’t always so nice. Neither is silence without another point of view. I just want to speak to you, can’t you see all that you have done, all that…