Laughing man's friend

Laughing man sat with a friend and her tone tossed lost words into my memory, don't you see night is coming you better get your tail out of that water, he ignored her, stepping further out, then dropped to his knees, forearms submerged, soft belly hanging into wet coolness. He dug his toes into the sand and looked down, his hands bleached, rose his head and looked back at her and she saw some sort of water creature, or her dog, cooling himself in the swampy water, and she sighed, his lower lip swollen and blue, and his face, now a beautiful golden sun, its light disappearing from the horizon and dipping into the water.

59th Street Bridge

It was still hot when dusk ended and the heat of the day kept the night white. I remember a desert I have never walked as the river glared bright in my mind as I waited for the breeze and he laughed so loud instead.

Times Square

Times Square

 Her face painted red, green, yellow and blue. Flashing as she danced in her shrine, alone in a store window.

Under the river

River under the bridge

If I spent every night for the rest of my life drawing the river, I would only learn to draw what I hadn't seen the night before.

59th street Bridge

You wouldn't know looking at this drawing; the water is alive, it does not look like the sky, it jumps and skips, light slips off it, its stirred by the summer wind, and torn by an ebbing tide,

keep working at it