It's all I've ever known, magical images played out upon all types of wooden surfaces since 1976 well pre-k in 1979 would be more like it.
My first memories began with my hands
holding lead like a magic wond I could
make magic happen so with my voice
never heard I learned silence would do and drawing for others made people happy. I gave it all away all the time. Man if I could have all of it back what a story it would be. My hands still amaze me as I age and my fingers are so worn, tattered and all but withered away. At almost 45 I try to be easy on the swollen bones but when my mind starts creating all the pieces swirling around in my head my hands grab hold of the riens so it all flows so generously onto anything that can stand it. I love my old decrepit, arthritic old man hands, they still make magic for me. My Life story is a Neverending sad song. I'd say life has not been kind but it's the people that have caused all the scars. Repeatedly abandoned, neglected and unwanted and