folk art

Without a class
     or a visit to see
anything hanging on walls
     or protected by glass.
Having never believed
     explanations in boxes
or words shared in the halls,
     by others who wanted
but merely to view.
The artists must do what they do.
 
© 2008 henry toromoreno

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the paper ring

© 2008 henry toromoreno

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red Ida B

© 2008 henry toromoreno

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sketch of Ray

© 2008 henry toromoreno

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me-mail (eulogy for letter writing)

b/c
it’s ez-R
& faster
4 u
u think <
of me
& don’t
write any
+
© 2007 henry toromoreno

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a terse history of communication

What we talked about when we huddled ‘round fire
was closer to truth, to god and desire.
What we say to each other when connected by phone
e-mail, or blackberry, still leaves us feeling alone.
What we heard about when we sat around listening in caves
was news of real things that connected our ways.
What we hear nowadays [...]

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his math collides with scripture

On the first floor of 317 Matthew Street,
          the hero of the day comes to believe
          the voices that he’s hearing are not in his head.
The instructions are in words he knows he’s seen before.
But the way they’re spoken now, is like they’re straight from revelation.
He tries to calm himself by not thinking of temptation,
          [...]

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Whitemare

The clamor of chains in the dark, embarking on a trip,
in the middle of the ocean, pushing along the trade,
in human cargo,
and never an embargo was discussed.
And thus, in god we trusted, for three hundred years;
the nails were rusted and replaced, by skinny black shadows,
huddled and hunched, and squirming in the paste of death’s stomach;
in [...]

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