i wear a face now
visible only
in the spectrum of dim shutoff
there /
barely a diaphanous cloak of calm
mine eyes ooze
acid puss of doubt
my heart muffed mad years ago
by the big cynic mallet left too long
on that singing muscle
of the spirit of me
Fear
inside
his burning gut
pours
down
fragrant disavowal
to an empty cellar
\ three floors up
stark facts
wait undressed
on nervous sheets
copyright 2016
About a. edward watkins
With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a
self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect
of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life
have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.
A.EDWARD WATKINS 