Resident Artist 2: David Arthur, No. 6
Days Go By… What a cliche’… This is for empty king sized beds for cigarettes and hollowed bottles then morning hangovers. For broken hearts and tear drops on holidays because they “are tender…
Days Go By… What a cliche’… This is for empty king sized beds for cigarettes and hollowed bottles then morning hangovers. For broken hearts and tear drops on holidays because they “are tender…
Resident Artist 3: No. 3 — Fear of the Dark Sunrise The sunlight burns like napalm I know because I put my hand out once I watch these weak white worms wake…
Resident Artist 2: David Arthur, No. 6: Mom’s Blue Ribbons My mother’s Blue Ribbons speak to me from her closet. Instead of awards, they sing the blues. Telling her tales of growing up in…