honoured by wax and the droppings of gulls
weathered by waves
scratchings of crabs
and the caress of mermaids
her immaculate stains
paint the rocks of the world
in mystery
and the salty invocations
of a full moon wind
catch me
dreaming
photo and poem by Clinock
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.
Listen.
Auguries fly out
from holes in the world
like shakuhachi breath,
wind through cedars,
wolves and whales,
a crying child.
Auguries, (for instance)
single shoes emerge
through the holes in the world,
and make temporary homes
on beaches and sidewalks,
everywhere.
Silent, humble, lonely
they await interpretation.
The one today
a woman’s pump,
red, glossy,
almost sexy,
almost new,
and lying next to it,
in the February grass
and last years debris,
a doll’s head
with blue eyes.
Don’t you ever
wonder?
Last week
It was a coyote,
streaked with rain,
standing, hypnotized
under a buzzing street light.
She said,
“Everything is normal
except God.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poem and photo* by clinock
*for best viewing experience, click on image to enlarge*
Birds on wires,
musical notes, perhaps
a singing telegram
lost in translation,
lost in the gray.
It’s a dead worm
wriggling in the wind,
she said, and I added
A crushed crow,
red and blackly abstracted
with truck prints.
A woman laughing
in a doorway, and
pale movements
in my peripheral vision.
Auguries
stagger, wave, shimmer,
appear unbidden
unfurling from sodden earth,
emerging from mists,
shaped like cats, seagulls, roses,
smelling like rainsoaked moss,
sounding like birds on wires
beginning to unfold,
cleaving me
photo and poem by clinock
*for best viewing experience, click on image*
torn skies rip pathways into fire,
curves are acknowledged and abandoned,
edges are released from symmetry,
passages of burning hunger
hover in anticipation,
mystery is penetrated.
dropping, I unfold in fragments,
incinerated shapes of melted wings
ignite the cold airs of descent
and darken the beckoning landscape
with gestures of ash and flame,
as my shadow grows.
intimate luminosity is lost
consumed by the scorching of the fall.
this is the cruelest language of the sun
this blue impenetrable codex,
this stained banner of belief
flying a farewell.
Torn and reassembled acrylic painting and poem by clinock
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.
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