Burn // Notice

 

 

(Crackerjack Surprise)

Fingers or fists-
Fits of finite fervent sanctity.
Future proof futility
Twists, tricks, triumphs!
Grainy, gritty
push
Comes
to
shove
Shoreline synchronated
satisfaction satiates
Crackerjack Surprise.
Simple solo Force
feel
fake
free
Glimmering forefront
Storefront solitude
Flame flicker inhalations
Inept exploration
Exempt exile


It's not the same now without your watchful eye. Slave to simplistic survival.  Spoiled determinatiion to sink under. Heavy breath heaving chest enigmatic arch. Examination of introversion and implied diversion. Rising suffocating heat hordes comfort complicating coorelated fates.


How can one eighty spin so fast and patterns dance like leaves in plaster and corners? Failure to withold hopes and forward gravitational flow.  Waiting for the sunrise I am bored searching for some connection that is a gift of some Christmas that will never arrive.


Fingers crossed and frozen breath as heartbeats pound away.

(Sleep to Dream)

 

 

(Abstract Study - I )

Sizzle // Fizzle

Slip into something Satie, slide in between the shades' shadows as the reprieve from the storm grants us one last wish. Hungry felines feast on my toes too tender to try and tempt.

And just like that severe sinks into flash.

Sizzle

fizzle and

follow me under the overhang to

gorge on the heat exchange.

Soft redivivus rumble

symphonius synch of heart

and head

and hands.

Within your speech is a

literal touch

a tremble a tickle of

fiber and being and

beyond that the silence it leaves behind is austere and taciturn.

Physiological philosophies peak and prick at my skin- begging for exoneration.....

Complicated coordination inept at delivering definition deepens my needs.

Over // Shoulder

Trip // Testify

tripped up translation
tongue-tied-starry-eyed
secret saudades for the
time trial.


Testify.

(What Actions)

what actions?
once again the
power of the pen prevails
(like winds in sails on the seas of anonymity....)


we are but vessels of this
sacred space,
time,
place
me in the palm of your hand and


squeeze
so
tight.


There are no more actions here tonite. . . .

Inspired by a blog post of JMG. 

Macro // Waves

It's true. I love to use macro in the creation of my abstract fine art pieces. It's more than the guesswork behind what the image really is- I love a good puzzle, but more importantly it is an expression of how the lines blur between the "big picture" and the singling out of one minute element of the picture. There is simplistic compexity there- it IS an oxymoron. This oxymoron is the construct of humanity, biology, music, photography....it is a study of introspection.

This set was taken somewhere in Lisbon. Even I don't remember where. . . some rotting wall.....

Collaboratus: Mathias Oppersdorff

Mathias is an accomplished photographer whm 12 years ago was stricken with Parkinson's, and took up pinhole photography as a result. You can see more about Mathias HERE.

We have shot together twice now, and are becoming fast friends. He is a dear, gentle spirit.

Please donate HERE for research for the cure for Parkinson's so that people like Mathias can continue bringing beauty into this world.

photo above with Mathias surrounded by portraits of 5 generations of his family.

and lastly- my portrait by Mathias using my digital camera, something practically foreign to Mathias' formal film style... However, I still feel it fitting, and it is one of my favorite portraits taken of me. :)

Crook // Vulture

Singular // Swollen

 

singular strand

dna dilemma

interrupted energies 

bleed out my belly

swollen surges of 

simple sadness

Seaweed // Slop

Surreptitious serpent.

seaweed slop 

underground lair leading to liberation. 

slow-slow-fast.

stop.

Body // Pod

Bigger than my body, barely breathing. busting out, seeping in pod-like pedestrians float into the heavens.

Stew // Salt

There is a stew.

There is a stew whose flavor changes with each hour is simmers.

There is a stew whose flavor bitters with each hour that it rots.

There is a pot.

There is a pot who I’ve been watching.

There is a pot whose lid I’ve tried to keep affixed.

There is stew erupting from a pot whose lid I’ve tried to keep affixed.

And I can’t find the salt. I can’t find the wound. I can’t find the spoon.

Soulshine // Kiss

Soul meets soul on lovers' lips. ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound

Trippin' // Daisy

Waiting // Line

Waiting line wash out weakens willingness to withstand an abbreviated wisdom. Shy particles of sound fall from your lips like snowflakes each perfect and unparalleled. But they fall with such weight and evaporate in our heat instantly, leaving me three seasons hence in significant silence.


Do leaves not fall as such leaving underfoot a symphony of percussive perfection, or the soft swoosh of the seeds that dance and twirl in the air? Oh! That you were able to perennially perform for me the delicacies of acknowledgable adulation instead of the absence administered.

Wrestling to clear myself of sticky cobweb austerity and surface to squirm in my stance so sequestered. Shine solemnity within my swept up memory and release me from propriety. Dance foresight, lead me to leap from ledges, at risk of the fabled fall.

Lock // Out

  

  

I love the moments here, of her full awareness, to distraction to complete internalization where we are, as a viewer, completely locked out.