Every time I see a plane in the New York Heavens, all I can think of is Nine Eleven.
Many millions of dollars and a toothy capped smile, always at home on the Museum Mile.
A Sacred Heart in New York City, hate to say it but the odds are shitty.
Stark in the park, nothing but bark.
Straight and narrow with a good amount of width.
A park in the city, city of New York, the land of a Duke, a bodega, and many-a-fork.
A fountain piercing through the ice like a perpetual finish.
The heart of New York.
Solomon R Geishanheim.
A spiral shell resting on the Gold Coast, waiting for a giant child to pick it up and place it in a burlap sack with a picture of Sponge Bob screen-printed along its side.
From the steps of the Met, putting the positive in negative… space.
Ye olde’ Manhattan.
With a stove top pipe and a pipe top stove. Say me three times out loud.
Yo, ES? Sex House!
My favorite piece at the Monaghan show.
A Buddha made of price gun stickers, a consumerist deity on a black and red door, could Hells Kitchen be any slicker?
In context, there are many bars in Manhattan.
Neil Simon, need I say more? Not the playwright, but that Neil will have to play right.
Time Warner Center from American Apparel, brought to you by the Oxygen we breath, which is sponsored by Cablevision.
Somewhere there is a dentist drilling a phantom cavity.