I understand the faces of the saints,
the martyred and the lost, in rapture bound
beyond the pale capacity of paints.
I hear the song that they hear. I have found
the underlying structure to that bliss.

You show me with our bodies, blood, and kiss.

April 14, 1999

Yours in the sullen grip of bone-deep pain,
Yours in the breaking beauty of the night,
Yours, whether wrapped in arms or wrapped in chain,

Yours in the ways I cannot yet explain,
But simply understand that they are right,
And rise to taste that breakage yet again.

I Was Always There
Dark Dream

Judas

Iron wills negotiate

My beloved, Judas, lives in E Block. I had him brought to Me.
Chains become him.

A Gallery of Sketches by the inmates:

Time on Our Hands

Scenes with My Judas:

Hard Scenes With Hard Men