fāz/the Empty Green Line

 

(OMG LOOK! he forgot

to remove the painters tape,

should we tell someone?)

 

they wear each other like hats, like masks,

like hair and hair nets,

like birds nests and spilled honey.

 

the empty green line waits

but words can’t be found.

the poet

holds

his

breath.

 

they are a circus unto themselves,

an orgy of coupling, a welding, a carnival,

partners in the great stumbling dance.

 

they wear each other

like music wears silence,

like the night wears the moon.

 

(meanwhile, other clues are given,

attention shifts from vagaries of language

to the eccentricities of the senses).

 

they wear each other like magicians wear clowns,

like gulls wear the wind,

like somehow nothing seems real

without the written

word.

this magic is called The Naming.

it is also known as

The Forgetting.

 

 

The Empty Green Line. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel.

Painting and poem by clinock.

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Ghosts – Hungry Ghost

Hungry ghost,

insatiable spirit,

I would free you first

amongst many if I could,

release you from your struggle

for relief and escape,

but you are mired so deep

in your painful longings

I cannot reach you.

 

Hungry ghost,

never satiated,

always searching, wild eyed

for the soothing elixir

that will fill the emptiness inside.

Tasting this and drinking that,

inhaling green and golden brown

mists of pleasure and illusion

to alleviate your loneliness.

 

Hungry ghost,

stripping the beauty of what is

with beaks of desire

to find fulfillment in what isn’t.

Hunting through nature and time

for more than is given.

Feeding on dreams

while the nurture of life waits

untouched around you.

 

Hungry ghost,

I would free me of you

and you of me,

exorcize these cravings

for the imagined, the untrue,

with chants of love

and a final act of will

dissolving these yearnings,

these haunted addictions

into clear mountain water.

 

painting and poem by clinock.

Another Full Moon.

Full moon rising,

your red dress ripped,

my arms and legs torn

by brambles,

cyphers of blood

writing our story.

 

Deep orange

flooding through veins.

Volcanic passage

erupting

across forests

in which we lay down.

 

Lunatics,

our bodies gone,

lost to the full moon,

unable to breath,

struggling

to hold on to us.

 

Deep power

pouring from night.

The stars are singing

through our reaching flesh

as we touch

the trembling sky.

 

We are lost

with the lost moths,

battering their wings

against the burning

illusion

of eternal light.

 

 Moon image courtesy of Google Images. / Poem by clinock.

Humorous Interlude – tight parking trick

Warning: this tight parking technique will only prove successful if you have the Hydro Pole Absorption App installed in your vehicle.

Photo by clinock.

called again to the gate

called again to the gate

the door

the mirrored self

the mirage

the shimmering

silent veil

the mystery

waiting for a sign

yesterday

skies remained

closed

unaligned

empty

today

something

shimmering

out of the blue

beyond the gate

the door

the reflection

the mirage

the silent veil

a shimmering voice

an invitation

to dance

the mystery

maybe

an empty

shell

singing illusions

of oceans

maybe

waiting for a sign

before making

an entrance

into another

shimmering unknown

 

Painting and poem by clinock.

Painting: 11″ x 15″. acrylic on paper.

Illusion is the first of all pleasures

Illusion is the first of all pleasures – Oscar Wilde

Painting by clinock. 20″ x 30″. Acrylic on canvas. 2013.