pages 4, 5, 6

Last night’s three collages (above) seem to be getting stranger, which is okay since this is a book of dreams, perhaps my version of Carl Jung’s Red Book.

I’ve never done a project like this before, have absolutely no idea what’s next. . . I don’t even know what the collage I’m working on at the time will look like when done, much less what’s further down the road.

I don’t normally do this sort of art because book art is almost impossible to show to a mass audience, unless you go one person at a time.

But none of that matters because I’m feeling real good about creating again – have 9 collages in the past four days and around 120 senryÅ«/haiku stanzas in the past 4 weeks. Lady’s right – the misery of living in the poverty and freezing cold of Cleveland is indeed inspirational art-wise.

Plus I’m a week away from the final revision of our 327 page 103,292 word memoir of the first 60 years of my life titled Criminal – A True Tale Of Armed Robbery, Stolen Cars, Alternative Art, Mainstream Poetry, Underground Publishing, Robbing The Cradle, And Leaving The Country and I will be shopping for literary agents again in an effort to get it published.

I have a loving wife whom I love, a most extraordinary cat, and am creatively happy – now where’s my fame and fortune?