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Poem – What is Still, Still Moves
Heart of winter is ironic as nothing moves in this cold there is no hot blood though veins keeping extremities alive. As I stand frozen on the patio even my breath escapes slightly before the immortalized words hang in the air. There is a shift in what you see when the clearest blue sky collides…
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Poem – Absentia #2
Absent of light the canvas becomes black – in the blackness there is not nothing – there is everything we choose to show, to expose, to translate from the memories and images into a masterpiece – who can judge art when colors, shapes, lines, splatters, and disconnected images are the hands interpretation of the mind’s…
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Jackson Pollock Poem – Fragment, Chaos
I stand above the floor scrambled mess of lines, blobs and various colors – and I feel peace and this makes sense nothing is linear or flows in one direction the chaos of multiple thoughts and emotions from infinite sources eventually swirls inward and collides, the resulting entanglement, the explosion a representation of the mind’s…