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| She was a collective metaphor for perfection he was recepetive but coldy analytic, hardly noticed by the untrained eye; specific make and model: wholly domestic Created as a vessel for procreation, in Her left eye wells a tear that will never pass inspection Unknown to most but forgotten by none who assumed the worst was yet to come, She had the name of Eve stamped on Her soul In his, a manufacturer's Code Strength not visible to the naked eye, Intelligence passed with self-less devotion She has no regret but one... and he sits quitely alone |
| A Song of Solace |
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| Wholly Shovel,2001 ; white ink on black paper |
| Have a Blast,1999; photograph; an old gas station in Gallup NM |