Posted on

oft

 

we have seepd

out from jazzrooms

like liquid

crafty drum drops done

right by effort

& setdown on lotus petals

on warm wintermoons of mars

or

behind grey doors

of your prestigious emergency rooms

we are floaters

silent cold

& when the hawk blows

west

thru tribe minds

you dont see us hung

from burning bridges

 

aewatkins(c)2020

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.

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