Blue Night (when all is lost )
poemimage
The visual & the poetic.
Category: Digital collage
Image | May 16, 2022
Which way to the bread line? The mountain is a machine. The animals are leaving Rome. Tell the Pharaoh nothing (I must have been thinking about the current situation – whatever it is).
I accidentally created a B&W version of this GIF which doesn’t register the text (not enough contrast) so there are blank spaces which is ‘sort of’ interesting in terms of future considerations.
May 15, 2022
page 52
I saw a concealed camera. The building owner said, ‘Keep this to yourself. I can give you a better deal.’ They were trying to catch whoever pulled the fire alarms. I took a two-year lease on a bright, spacious studio. New owners took over. My lease expired. They showed me an abandoned studio containing a four-foot high plaster bust of John F. Kennedy. I wrote the artist a letter. His uncle took me to a basement apartment in Brampton. The artist had been living in his mother’s house. Dishes filled the drainer beside the sink. His thin leather coat hung, buttoned, on a wire hanger. Augustin Filipovic won the Mayor of Rome’s Award. His art embellished the cover of Canada’s Centennial Book. Augustin looked like a movie star, wearing a tuxedo & waltzing in the spotlight with a pretty girl in white.
from my book Meme-Noir (2019)
May 8, 2022
When the Abstract Expressionists
When the Abstract Expressionists
went to the moon
and discovered
the Expressionists
had left an egg
rolling to a standstill
for them to discover.
*
*
*
The egg comes from a painting of mine.
The bird imagery comes from digital experimentation.
The idea about the Abstract Expressionists
and Expressionists
and moon travel (involving an egg)
came in a humorous flash.
April 27, 2022
(unborn spirit)
Glide like an arrow into moonlight flickering the orioles’ ruffled wing
(orioles)
Orioles chanting obsidian prayers conceal the dragon’s stolen egg
(egg)
Narwhals enchant the solemn egg, vines slither into a moaning abyss
(abyss)
Zebras stampede the abyss pursuing drumbeats of a curvilinear root
(root)
Apricots wish upon the pulsing root beseeching Horsemen of the Apocalypse
(Horsemen of the Apocalypse)
Horsemen of the Apocalypse perfumed by oil rising within eyeball-shaped flesh wounds
(oil)
Oil drips into flames shimmering in copper saucers illumining infinity
(infinity)
Lemmings howl dragging the dark matter of infinity
(dark matter)
Dark matter radiates obediently, obsidian and translucently, imprisoning sunshine
(sunshine)
Glide upon footholds of dark matter buried within illumining sunshine, deliver your flickering unborn spirit
(unborn spirit)
April 24, 2022
Cubism, Juan Gris & Ancient Iran
Something connected these two works spatially and visually in my imagination. Maybe at first the subtle earth tones. I must have made three dozen digital collages for the GIF. Used many.
Pottery Vessel in the Form of a Ram, Unknown artist, Western Iran, 1350-800 B.C., Ceramic Los Angeles County Museum of Art
Juan Gris, 1912, Still Life With Flowers, oil on canvas, 112.1 X 70.2 cm Museum of Modern Art
March 24, 2022
2 GIFs
I went to bed with one sock on.
Walt Whitman decided to bury the sparrow.
A suggestion of Janus, before & forever following
the ignition of neural pathways.
A suggestion of Raven dipping her beak
in the soldered inkwell
casting a spell, perhaps.
Been drinking coffee like a chain smoker
this moment crashes into the next.
March 14, 2022
Towers of Cake in Byzantium
I meet an old friend for coffee and cake
we discuss the symmetry of
consequence, the coincidence of
symmetry.
After we stand on the corner
I visit two bookstores
near one another in The Annex,
mostly second-hand
books I will thumb through
a hundred times (knock on wood)
finding inspiration
sifting subconscious & mythological elements
a chapter here, chapter there
traipsing the curvilinear imagination.
Birds fly low magnetized by subterranean quartz
wings whoosh, swooshing
miraculously, above the roar of wind,
I hear their soft instruction.
A young person, in motion a river,
photographs the books
over my shoulder.
Humming a tune
I contemplate pages
on the subway train.
Or so it seems, the way she steadies her phone
visible out the corner of my eye –
my station approaches.
I said this image is four, maybe, or five-thousand years old
she said I saw the books.
She said something, maybe, what
she read or might be reading.
Maybe she mentioned Byzantium.
I understood barely anything almost nothing,
with her speaking through a mask,
the subterranean ambient noise,
additional my normal hearing trouble.
She repeats a word, I tilt my head
like a bird
darting
the door embellished with golden mosaic tiles,
sliding closes in my face.
A vast dimension
composed of light-years
descends upon me.
The sound of her mystery words
accentuates her aura
like a river in motion.
I repeat rhyming words
the consequence of symmetry
the symmetry of coincidence.
Thank you, she said.
I dart for the door again
climbing tiled stairs
beneath vast archways
tasting cake.
Birds swoop above & below a quartz-river
flowing from the sun.
The Idea of the Book in the Middle Ages: Language Theory, Mythology and Fiction by
Jesse M. Gellrich –
Sun, Moon and Standing Stones by John Edwin Wood –
Inside the Neolithic Mind by David Lewis-Williams & David Pearce –
A Search for Cave and Canyon Art: Voices From the Stone Age by Douglas Mazonowicz – (signed by the author)
poemimage 