Mr. Landman, Bring Me A Dream

Don't ask me what this one's all about, because I really don't know. I make these things to spark some alternative creative fires. Or at least hoping they will.

Poetry is for disasters, tears are for the drycleaners

Okay, so I don't really know where the name for this photograph/painting came from, but now that I'm an artist-type, I have to develop the temperament: broody, dark, intense, mysterious. This is the mysterious part, I suppose. In other work, I wrote about the Tea Party fringe holding the GOP and our nation hostage in hopes of killing the health care law. And I recounted my experience running in the Louis Tewanima footrace in Hopi. Enjoy.