A Man Standing In Front Of A Wall With His Hands On His Head Art

a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with a ball in his hand
a painting of a man with an angel on his back
a painting of a man with a ball in his hand
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with a cross on his chest
a painting of a man in his underwear
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with a sword in his hand
a painting of a man with his back to the camera
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with a sword in his hand
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a drawing of a man with a bird on his shoulder
a painting of a man covering his eyes
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
a demon with a sword in his hand
a man holding two large knives in his hands
The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon forgot to go away.
a man with a horned head standing in the dark
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.
a man in a blue sweater covers his mouth with his hands
a man sitting on a ledge in front of a wall with graffiti
The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon, high up on the left, forgot to go away.
a painting of a man holding a ball above his head
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a man posing for a picture with his boxing gloves on
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
an old man with a stethoscope in his hand
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a man posing for a picture with his shirt off
a drawing of a man with a sword in his hand
a painting of a man with his arms crossed