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

Shaman (renovation art 3)

shaman-3

shaman

Shape shifter,

Sometimes winged,

Sometimes four legged.

Woman, man, fish, amoeba,

Bone and card reader,

Weaver of dreams,

Midwife and mortician,

Magician and Fool.

 

Beyond right and wrong,

Always and forever

He is deeply here

At the pulsing center

Of my life,

And I dance his mystery

Into drumming kaleidoscopes

Of wonder.

 

Art and Poem by Clinock.

Sculpture: Shaman, by Clinock. H. 13″ x W. 5″ x D. 5″. Fired and stained clay.

Autumn Resurrection

Resurrectionsometimes, even

in the season

of dying and farewells

the broken,

the rusted,

the rejected

are touched by magic,

resurrected,

garlanded in lights

and flowers,

transmogrified

and honoured

as fallen leaves

and a tenuous sun

ride summer memories

through October streets.

 

photo and poem by clinock.

Click on photo for superior viewing experience.

Another Full Moon.

full_moon_dreamsFull 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.

Eggs of Isis

Eggs of Isis 4

Isis

goddess

burning desire

fecund magic flames

igniting life’s passion

as over and over

 she conjures

surrender

wonder

love

we are

her eggs

her fruitful

full ripe bodies

 fertile  gardens of longing

surfaces penetrating sighing depths

parting hidden veils of loving

 exploring moist heat

soft caverns of fire

exiting

entering

closing

 opening

 opening more

 inviting us to dance

this waltz of birth and death and love

again and again and again

in blood and tears

and laughter

our shells

slowly

dissolving

into

rounded arcs

of light

 

acrylic mixed media painting and poem by clinock.

Broken

Broken. 18" x 22". graphite, conte & charcoal on paper. (Dwg #28)

broken in the rain,

repair is complicated

and plans misplaced.

 

all parts are fallen,

sanguine and separated,

vulnerable to rust.

 

solitary fragments

wait for the miracle

of reattachment.

 

magic craves time,

sacrifice and surrender

to reanimate

this static wreckage

that still pulsates with dreaming,

and magic must be fed.

 

drawing and poem by clinock.

‘The 100’ #74 – The Waiting Room Drawings.4.

Waiting Room 4. 12" x 10". Mixed Media. (Mix Med #28).

 

in the waiting room

you might observe

that we lack what might be termed

Modern Conveniences

our dimension is

carved from space and decorated with

intimate meanderings

of images and breath

this is enough to satisfy our present needs

and as we wait

we pass the time

by thinking, imagining, postulating,

slowly opening

each and every door

to each and every possibility of thought

but only time

will tell

“Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell……………………………”

‘The 100′ series was initiated by my 100th Post in April 2012. As text and images are the essence of my blog I will post 100 pieces of textual art from historical and contemporary artists and from my own hand. To view the series to date click on ‘The 100’ in my Category Menu.