The Birth of a Neo-Expressionist Painting
Memories clog the channels of the mind
The fingers twitch from the need to paint
Alerting sensations to the task.
Eyes sit on the subject
A mantra meditatively clearing ideas on a false start.
A tentative dip in color
An adroit skin tone begins
In softness imagined, moisturized and hydrated.
A dissonant vase made and cracked in a virtual world
A nest in a corner of what could be love
Unseen notes from a singing voice
Floating to the suggested ears
Give the body a frisson.
A timely switch to a less dominant hand blends in
A quasi medieval being massages the back, invisible
Thrusting the body towards the viewer
An unintended provocation.
The painting is unfinished.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Gravity
Gravity
Trust gravity to keep your feet on the ground
Looking down, you fail to see the attraction of the earth, of life on it, despite the many ants, ladybugs, tiny flowers, and micro-organisms busily mixing things up.
Being a distinguished person, you don't lean to better distinguish those elements of life, for fear of exposing a side of yourself other forms of life dislike.
That is gravity.
Fighting gravity keeps you out of the grave
Until it lowers your eyelids
Like the end of the day
With the sun going down
And the moon rising on the other side.
Trust gravity to keep your feet on the ground
Looking down, you fail to see the attraction of the earth, of life on it, despite the many ants, ladybugs, tiny flowers, and micro-organisms busily mixing things up.
Being a distinguished person, you don't lean to better distinguish those elements of life, for fear of exposing a side of yourself other forms of life dislike.
That is gravity.
Fighting gravity keeps you out of the grave
Until it lowers your eyelids
Like the end of the day
With the sun going down
And the moon rising on the other side.
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