Workshops 1-3

Workshop1
“The Yellow Symposium’s Muse”

Plays cold and jams pearls
Into a hollow wooden womb with a plastic
Crimson and gold inlay of feasting
Hummingbirds to protect the
Scraping strums of metallic
Chords that blistered the fingers
Who knew so well that
Canary whose rainy murder would relentlessly
Etch and callous inspiration into
Tantalizing silent screams
Rhythmically clotting,
Begging him to share some whiskey or wine
and confess the yellow symposium’s muse.



Workshop 2
“The Narwhal’s Starfish”

He found it on the back of his hammerhead’s
impregnated blue-eyed Mako. She surrendered
it as a donation of October.
He brought it to its native shore and
persistently protected by puncturing
every predator. Then emerged the hybrid carnivore
and was adopted by the mighty mammals.
The narwhal forgot the starfish on the strange foreign
sands of the Gulf. It patiently lingered, awaiting
the mysterious comfort of its confident companion
to return with lionfish-like songs of sanguinity.
After half a decade of enduring strange sand and sunny
circumstances, the starfish dried and starved.
Its carcass now resides with the other foreigners
strung to clink in the wind next to the
city specific shot glasses.



Workshop 3
“Dissection”

Five years of regular research and persistent planning,
exploring and excavating exact environments,
anticipating that fully equipped harpoon on the
lobsterman’s Carina, to capture that damn
narwhal, the one who torments and punctures,
building and destroying natural habitats
engendering headaches with its constant
singing and bellowing,
begging to be severed wide open
and vulnerable, exposing his walloping
core, pleading to have his nuclear heart
surveyed and scrutinized for signs of malfunction.