Untitled

Debris Field

An Eye for a Tooth

The Rosacea Set

Not Enough Lifeboats

Selig

Bagatelle

V Is For Veavervrook

Christmas Ceres

Terry with a Z

Christmas Blue Jeans to All

Cather Avenue

Falconetti I

Falconetti II

Feathered

Accept Him as Your Precious Saviour

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Z Is for Zouave

The Second Mrs. de Winter

Hoarding

Wallpaper with Fish

Abstract Curl

Very Fluffy

Very Fluffy Too

Table Creatures

Salmon Pink Saki

Continue to Older Posts
for more of my recent work
2006-2007

Marxist Kitty (with Confetti)

Wisconsin Cat Trip

Pictures of Little T.C. in a Prospect of Flowers

See with what simplicity
This nymph begins her golden days!
In the green grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair aspect tames
The wilder flowers, and gives them names;
But only with the roses plays,
And them does tell
What colour best becomes them, and what smell.

























Who can foretell for what high cause
This darling of the gods was born?
Yet this is she whose chaster laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,
See his bow broke and ensigns torn.
Happy who can
Appease this virtuous enemy of man!


























O then let me in time compound
And parley with those conquering eyes,
Ere they have tried their force to wound;
Ere with their glancing wheels they drive
In triumph over hearts that strive,
And them that yield but more despise:
Let me be laid,
Where I may see the glories from some shade.

























Meantime, whilst every verdant thing
Itself does at thy beauty charm,
Reform the errors of the Spring;
Make that the tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair,
And roses of their thorns disarm;
But most procure
That violets may a longer age endure.





























But O, young beauty of the woods,
Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime
To kill her infants in their prime,
Do quickly make th' example yours;
And ere we see,
Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee.

The Latest Headache

Is Me No Is Me