Autumn Blues

autumnblues12

My blood thinned by foghorns.

Chilled rain instead of cold beer

on the puddled patio.

Night reflections shimmering

on downtown streets

enter me with a shivering,

stuttering neon.

 

My skin, stretched by winds of change,

tightens into geometries

of angled cold and weak light.

My eyes struggle against sleep.

The season moves

with the languorous throb and angst

of autumn blues.

 

Are these the fallen glories

of the winded wings of trees?

or the ragged motley

of a jester at a wake?

I jump in leaves

and bury myself in their smell

as we enter dark.

 

 

painting and poem by Clinock (edited redux – 2014)

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October 2013 – Ghosts Pass By

ghosts_3

Ghosts pass by.

Abandoning armchairs,

stubbing out cigars,

quaffing the final drop

of vintage port

they float away,

down the back stairs,

checking their auras

in the cracked mirror

as they go.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Evicted from rooms

of haunted sleep,

they pass on, like wind,

like a Fellini parade,

a dust blown cavalcade

of ragged motley

seeking another home,

another creaking attic,

another empty shell.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Swathed in scars and chains,

autumn leaves and broken hearts

they pass the open window

of my glorious night.

Weeping phantoms,

restless souls and spirits,

their gaze is losing me

and I watch their sad ambling

with eyes of dawn.

 

Ghosts pass by

in feather boas, painted rags,

stained armor and cloaks of stars;

a susurration of shadows

shimmering with enchantment;

tears and whispers in the night.

Ghosts pass by, darkly inviting

but I turn and touch the sun,

and am exorcised again

in pulsing light.

~~~

 

Acrylic painting and poem by Clinock

Edited redux from October 2013

 

Sept 2014 – Ghosts – Joan of Arc

joan of arc

 

Seeking sanctuary from the burn

I trespass her ice and holy dance

and am caught, unmasked,

between flaming carapace and tundric flesh.

 

She rises with a purer love

in fiery blizzards I cannot name,

consuming me in smoldering tears

by which I navigate her bright beauty.

 

There are red mysteries in her conflagration

binding me with smoking tongues,

releasing me in blinding light,

fusing me forever to this silent ghost of ash and passion.

 

Painting and Poem by Clinock

 

 

August Redux 2014 – baptismos

baptismos 2

Liquid whispers

from behind the veil.

 

Invitations to dance

accepted.

 

Absorbed by

succulent wetness.

 

Sinking

into warm release.

 

Dissolved in wonder,

embraced by namelessness,

diving into light,

drowning

in the confluence

of moisture and flesh.

 

Sliding

Into

Rebirth.

 

Painting and Poem by clinock.

 

July Redux Anniversary Issue

Truckin

Today, July 6, 2017, is my 6th year anniversary on WordPress. To celebrate I am revisiting my 1 year anniversary post. Here it is:

2011 / 2012. One Year, during which I have connected through the blogosphere with so many wonderful, creative people. I have been inspired, entertained, informed, educated, enlightened and sometimes moved to tears.

I began Art Rat Café as an assignment for an art course, never thinking that I would continue past the first few posts. Now I’m addicted and look forward to more of our amazing communications through the aether

I am so curious about you all and would love to be able to magically bring you together for a blogger’s party in my beautiful city – to look in your eyes and touch your hands and feed you Italian wine and Vancouver salmon.

Blogging is so frustratingly cerebral and although I love it for what it is my approach to life is ever a sensual one.

Self Portrait with the Other

As I live my days and make my art a special part of my thoughts is always active creating my next post, wanting it to be meaningful, magical and mysterious for you and for me. This process is as much a creative act as making a painting, writing a poem or dancing.

Back ‘In the Day’ you would all have been my ‘pen-pals’, (anyone remember ‘pen-pals’?).

The nature of Time is definitely strange and unpredictable – the Trickster in our lives – the accordion playing at our table in a Parisian café, serenading our hearts with music so bitter sweet.

After all is said and done

It’s just a rainbow ‘round the sun,

Another ring toss ’round a star,

A bear stuck in a honey jar,

An ancient number scratched in rock,

A ticking tap, a dripping clock.

Years pass like apes in papered parlors,

Time is their hunger

And we’re all bananas.

 

I love you all and send deepest thanks for your comments, likes and support of Art Rat Café. My connection to you means so much to me.

Here’s to you, dear friends, and to another year of bountiful blogging.

Peace and Love… Keep on Truckin’

Credits:

‘Keep On Truckin’ image thanks to Robert Crumb.

Painting and poem by clinock.

Painting: Self Portrait with the Other. 30″ x 20″ (76.2 cm x 50.8 cm) Acrylic on canvas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This Moment Now, Not Redux, P.S.

This intensely powerful July full moon woven into this rare, northwest coast summer heat-wave, is…phenomenal. Summer was late arriving in Vancouver, BC. this year and we needed, so desperately, the sun and its blessings. I drink it in. charging.

Full city, full moon, full light

You could keep a whole city alight in the energy I have tonight.

I am summer heat and am expanded and ignited by it – Fire – Leo – In – My – Element. 

This music was not in my one year post but I just had to put it here…with these words…

“And that full bellied moon, she’s a-shinin’ on me.

Yeah she pulls on this heart like she pulls on the sea”

summer moon 1

 

Lilac Moon

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Full moon tonight.

Her name is Lilac Moon,

Womb of Spring,

Hidden by Clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lilacs are out in Vancouver.

Spring always smells like you,

but it never lasts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The magnolias bloomed

and were gone

in three days

this year.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flowers of May

come and go.

~~~~~~~~~

The lilacs may last

a little longer.

~~~~~~~~~

Because it brings me back you…

art and poem by clinock

Painting: 20″ x 16″ (50.8 x 40.64 cm). Acrylic on paper.

 

May the Fourth Be With You

may-the-fourth

Looking,

but not seeing

this leaping spring,

you are observed

in your surreal museum

by the world.

 

Incongruous anachronism,

guardian, warrior,

frozen in time,

stiffly stuffed

with unquestioning allegiance

to sunken empires.

 

Your Freudian

hat and gun stand to,

but not with,

attention,

while across the street

cherry blossoms bloom

and all the human tribes

sing for peace.

 

Hero on guard

for the forgotten,

May The Fourth Be With You.

 

 

Poem and photo by clinock. (I’m sorry, every year I can’t resist).

With thanks to unknown Vancouver street artist and taggers