MOLOCH

"What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?…"

The year began with a single sheet of paper putting ink-marks on record. I attached a new sheet to it, and then another and another, till I eventually had four. A year went by, of war and genocide, and I was struggling to make some sense of it all. The deeply personal symbolism that emerged went through several stages in my mind and eventually began overflowing and leaking into my brain, and my spine.

The drawing became a raging sea of flames, a demonic Moloch, "... bashing children's skulls and eating up their brains and imagination, a nightmare. Moloch, Solitude, Moloch, Filth, Moloch, Ugliness, Moloch, Congress of Sorrows, Moloch, whose eyes are a thousand blind windows, Moloch, in whom I sit lonely, and just like Ginsberg's urban Moloch, there sure was a sense of a summer breeze in attempting to capture it.

"Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!"