Here is a series I just completed. It was inspired by traditional Chinese ink paintings but with a modern flare. Please enjoy.

The Birth

The Sun

The Ripple

The Catch

The Boat

The Net

The Plate



Fourth and final in a 4-part series: Death

As you know, every great thing must end.

Do not dread death, just savor time you spend

With family and friends, and even foes.

Life is more powerful than anyone knows,

But death ends life much faster than a cheetah.

How does this relate? Let’s meet our Vaquita.

He loves his life, frolicking with loved ones.

He lives with parents, daughters, and their sons.

La Vaquita is living his life at its best,

Everything’s perfect, this Vaquita is blessed.

Think about something while he thinks about fish:

There must be a reason this is called what it is.

Ok, fine, I’ll go back to the story.

While the pod is living in glory,

They dive and blow and breach and float.

But just ’round the corner approaches a boat.

Our little Vaquita sees a school of fish,

He dashes towards the boat, that he didn’t I wish.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he gets caught in the net,

He rolls frantically and starts to fret.

His heart stops.

He’s gone.

But do not dread death, here’s what some say:

Life after death is just another day.

This may be true for some forms of life,

But not so with the Vaquita’s strife.

The Gulf without the Vaquita is like a forest without moss.

When one Vaquita dies, the entire species may be lost.


Third in a 4-part series: Maturity

Bubbles stream down his graceful form.

The sea surrounds him, rich and warm.

He playfully darts through the silky water,

He finds a mate and they have a daughter.

They all live together with his brother and mom.

The pod’s noise meets that of a bomb.

Their lives are all perfect, they whistle nice songs.

Nothing. Yes, nothing could ever go wrong.


Second in a 4-part series: Adolescence

A few months now have already passed,

The calf’s older, he’s not a tot, at last!

He’s finally stopped cowering under his mom.

Now he’s swimming around with aplomb.

He learned to catch fish all on his own,

He learned how to squeak, whistle, and moan.

He can log, spyhop, breathe, and breach,

Echo-locate things his eyes can’t reach.

His days of being cared for are fading away.

He will join his mother’s pod any day.

The clock is ticking fast, and in essence,

These are his last days of adolescence.


First in a 4-part series: Birth

Cries of gulls pierce the air,

The Gulf of Cali has beauty to spare.

The April sun warms the water,

The Sea of Cortes could not be hotter.

Although the sky and land are great,

What’s below the surf is worth the wait.

Plunge in the ocean, go down a few feet.

A submerged birth scene is what you will meet.

There, in the seaweed, floats a mother,

Giving birth to her young calf’s brother:

The tail comes first,

Then out comes the head.

The calf is free,

But sinks like lead;

The mother is nervous.

But all is well,

The calf’s not ill,

Things are swell.

To have healthy kids, some would kill.

The mother tends to her precious boy,

Tiny and cute, he resembles a toy.

The calf takes in the blazing sun,

With no idea of what’s to come….