Portrait of Clayton Cubitt, 16 x 20” encaustic, ink and blood on glass.

- It wasn’t a dream, it was a flood.

- I am the rider called death. I sit in the saddle with Dark the Negro. And his crazy blues sinks down like a diver into my belly of dreams.

- Really, I visualize the dead as well as the living. I visualize you who I will never know. We are constant strangers. I imagine you, I stare at you when I write.

- You will do battle with the notion of time, You will allow your person to plumb it so your ship may pass through it again. Everything has already happened.

- They draw their coats over an old woman’s eyes, And think about standing in a warm pool. A white sheet wrapped around them. An old woman holding them, Taking them down into water.

-Born-In-The-Camp-With-Six-Toes stabbed me with a knife. Baby Gauge sucked the poison out. Oh sweet Jesus, the levees that break in my heart.

- Frank Stanford