Photo by Clinock
Photo by Clinock
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,
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)
Tom Petty died Oct 2, 2017, age 66.
another Wilbury gone,
another empty chair,
another orphaned guitar.
Rest in Peace Tom,
this full moon’s for you, and thank you
from my heart
for all your rockin music.
Veiled whispers are reversed.
Putti are lobotomized.
The Tree of Life dries and withers.
Beware of straight black lines she says
to the poetry
The sky is smudged charcoal.
Birds fly upside down through falling ash.
Time cracks open
A mad man wears The Crown.
Oh don’t you hear
the old gods
Poem and art by clinock.
Enigma. 8″ x 8″ (20 x 20 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.
To do the useful thing,
to say the courageous thing,
to contemplate the beautiful thing,
that is enough for one man’s life.
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
photo by clinock