Scavengers

Seven swallows pecking seeds chasing chickadees and bickering A surly sparrow not necessarily the strongest but the meanest strikes back at the circle of others encroaching not him but whatever he is and whatever he is doing if he isn’t one of them A mourning dove appears and with its zig zagged peck begins striking…

It’s Cold Outside

It’s cold outside I think I’ll wait another day to say what I feel today I cannot think and feel about our right to become who we choose to be It comes with a price all this trying to share in some way all this ‘doing things’ of worth and value to belong and stay,…

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…

Walking Home At 3AM

Pigeons scatter in the alley when I throw them crumbs, someone must have scared them too much to trust me today. Ahead, a drunk exits a bar just as I am approaching. He doesn’t see me behind him as he staggers from one side of the sidewalk to the other. When I try to go…

A Mother and Her Children

A Mother and Her Children Our voices will speak again of the green of these meadows, again, of this vicious rain. Our hearts will again spoil us so we can keep again the vows we’ve made. With rough hands undertaking, And hearts soft to our awakening, while onward the years crush with soft moans and…