My Little Robots

I created little robots that do different things, some can sing, some can dance, some jump, hump,  lie, fly, bump and grind. My robots are great theater, why at times they can even cut off each others heads! The run around all over, sqealing, stealing and sometimes healing. Then they rig up devices that destroy each other and blow themselves to bits! They create stories about me that make no sense in an effort to try and recompense. Every time they try to do better they end up putting everyone in fetters! They all do something, more or less. Someone asked me why I made them and why they do things I made them able, I tell them I like to watch my little robots, they are spectacular, they're the greatest show on earth!


Reynard's first gallery showing

This is Reynards first showing (though he still remains anonymous) I try to tell him that pinning a pop can to a wall is not "art" and it never will be, yet he continues, undaunted, unabashed and unwilling to face my reality. Why not? It's his life, (well, I guess) actually I'm jealous he got there before me. I do like the curators comments, you can kind of see them in the gallery photo next to the work, if you can't they are reprinted below:

"Coke Can Pinned To Wall"
The creation of "Coke Can... took place at the end of the first cycle of the last phase of the artist's "metal can" period. Other less substantial can work was sold "at any venue for almost any price" in the artists words, to put food on the table (and maintain the enormous studio required for such undertakings) during the lean years on the art worlds fringe. Success was at last found toward the end of the fourth period (when it was really too late). Tragically, an abrupt end was brought to his can work and he never again touched the aluminum.

The Man In The Hat's poet-tree corner
"Your cheese is my disease, your cheese is my desire
free me of your sleaze, and set my soul on fire"
Sounds more like a "poet free" corner to me! When I find TMITH'S poetry "tree house" I'm setting it on fire!

The Ambiguous Sandy Beach Evening Thought
He walks along the sandy beach looking out at the limitless ocean, barely lit by half a moon. His eyes turn upward at the vast dark sea above with tiny spots of white too numerous to comprehend - and he asks, "How can I get to end of it?" Then he looks down and smells a small, dead, fish.

Encouraging last word of the day...
Jesus loves me more than you and less than that guy over there in the funny hat, is all I'm sayin.