Robin_485_485.jpg

Robin McIntosh

When I'm not writing / collecting, find me at: 

www.workithealth.com
www.sirensf.com

My son, my executioner, 

My son, my executioner, 

My Son, my Executioner

My son, my executioner, 

     I take you in my arms,

Quiet and small and just astir

And whom my body warms.

 

Sweet death, small son, our instrument

     Of immortality,

Your cries and hunger document

Our bodily decay.

 

We twenty-five and twenty-two

     Who seemed to live forever

Observe enduring life in you

And start to die together.

DONALD HALL 

photo from a project I created, Racquetball

My good friend has cancer and she's 32 / sketches from Summer 2012

My good friend has cancer and she's 32 / sketches from Summer 2012

The precise instant everything changes—

The precise instant everything changes—