May Redux – 2013 – Dreams For Sale

dreams for sale

Walking a city afternoon I made this photo through the window of an antique store.

I continued to gaze, fascinated by my reflection superimposed on the bed. It was as if I was laying down and drifting with the ghosts of all who had ever slept, dreamed, loved, laughed and cried, been born and died there, tangled in baroque light.

I was moved to free us from all this sleeping around.

Above, but out of the frame, was a sign in antiquarian lettering.

It said ‘Dreams For Sale’.

 

ghosts cannot rest

in this dislocated bed

 

perplexed by labyrinths of iron

and the endless touch of the living

 

their spines and cheeks

never crease the haunted sheets and pillows

 

outside looking in I’m inside looking out

whispering to the reflected dead

you are loved and you are loved

and you are free

 

Walk on

Photo and Poem by clinock.

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

April Redux – 2014 – Siena Ghost

Siena Ghost

~~~~~~~~~~

Inquisitive ghost

haunting bright Siena day

with curtained glances

~~~~~~~~~~~

Photograph and haiku by clinock

April Redux – 2013 – fragmented/enchanted

fragmented-enchanted

Even as the center holds,

various preconceptions

of mirrored identity,

(sensible face,

pedestrian limbs,

imagined organs),

fragment and

peel away,

shedding more than was known.

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

Enchanted by fragmentation

I’m reluctant to leave

this sweet and bitter place

where honeyed magics

wing through space,

pollinating thought

and flesh, and dreams.

Waiting becomes me.

I paint the walls with lightning.

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

Fragmented by enchantment,

a cellular accommodation

reforms my reformation

in a dance of Buddha love,

an attitude of slow turning

across the wavering tiles,

where I shape and shape again

the slow dissolve

of the waiting room I was.

 

 

photo collage and poem by clinock

New Art Website Open / Update

birds

‘This is the link to my new Art Portfolio website’, I’m sorry there was a Linkage Leakage. I have changed it to how you see it here: http://www.johnclinockart.com

Please let me know if this link now connects you directly to my new site, OR not. I appreciate your assistance while I sort this out..

I want to clarify that I now have two sites: This one, Art Rat Cafe, that will continue as is and always has been, AND, my new Art Portfolio website that is created with the single purpose and intention of showing my art in as simple and as formal a context as possible.

I welcome your visit and comments.

Altered photo by clinock

a temporary hiatus (Dragon Renovation)

dsc09905

It seems that everything

is trying to tell me

It’s renovation time again.

The dragon needs new clothes,

renewed ignition and a volcano full

of revivification.

The rat and lion share this

unholy

predicament.

It’s October. Renovation time again.

Changes wind in the air

with squirrels and drifting leaves

and winter winks

from shadowed corners

and misty horizons.

Changes arrive like a parade

of jesters and ghosts.

I must follow.

And so, my friends,

I leave you once more

for a temporary yet purposeful hiatus…

Until next time,

A la prochaine,

Hasta Luego,

Art Rat❤

art rat image with pa#10EDE

poem and photo by clinock

Harvest Moon

Harvest-Moon-Image-Courtesy-of

She spells and conjures me

beyond resistance.

She strings and dances me

through frantic streets,

her hapless marionette,

clacking limbs

and wooden heart.

 

I am played and plucked

with ivory fingers

my strings vibrating

as she paints me

with this lunar grin,

new moon on her back

Cheshire feline fading.

 

It cannot last, this phantom face,

this bright madness.

She has me by the balls

and won’t let go.

She pulls me inside out

and whispers secrets

I don’t want to know.

 

Mistress, muse and madam,

Priestess and lover.

She commands me

and all my gestures.

Such brief moments

of elaborate ecstasy,

endlessly repeated,

is all i ask.

 

moon photo thanks to Google Images / poem by clinock