Eggplants,
Reflections,
Flowers.
It’s not much to offer in return.
I escape into the accommodating mist,
embarrassed and too far lost in other landscapes
to embrace the yes or the no.
reflections
May Redux – 2013 – 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.
Full Moon in Leo
Full moon in Leo,
your red dress ripped,
my arms and legs torn
by brambles,
ciphers of blood
writing our story.
Transmitting
another style of day
she floods our veins and
volcanic passages
erupt through forests
where we lie down.
Lunatics,
our bodies gone
we chase our breath,
defy gravity,
cross the Great Water
into the mystery.
We are lost
with the lost moths,
beating our wings
against reflections
in the window of the mirror
of the sun.
Moon image courtesy of Google Images. / Poem by clinock.
Edited redux.
Ghosts – Dreams for Sale
Ghosts sleep
behind this window glass,
their memories confused
by labyrinths of iron
and caresses
of prospective buyers.
Their spines and cheeks
leave no impression
but I see them,
layered deep in time,
all who slept and dreamed and loved
on this Baroque and dislocated bed
embraced in the arms of Morpheus.
The antique sign says
“Dreams for Sale.”
Outside looking in
I am inside looking out.
My face reflects
on haunted pillows.
I pause,
whisper
“You are loved”
and walk on.
Photo and Poem by clinock. (edited redux)
Ghosts – the alone
Cracked and whispering,
smeared
across frayed and faded
veils of memory,
dissolving
fractured interstices
of stained days,
the one alone,
lost.
Loss and paradox
chime
dried bones in dank tunnels
beneath a burning bridge
where bright darkness
casts an eye,
staring down my soul,
stirring my cells
translucent.
Intimate spirit
trapped,
struggling for escape
but chained
to rusting remnants
and luminous ice,
a nameless shadow
craving release,
freedom
to be loved into
tree skin,
sleeping rocks and gulls,
wolf and worm,
petal and seed.
To enter floods and dust,
and the rising moon.
To let go.
Transcend.
Mixed media painting and poem by clinock.
dark (almost)
Dark, almost.
The trees already gone
and the reflected sky
not far behind.
Another clutch of breaths
maybe, before
utter blackness
shrouds the scene.
Just time enough to notice
that one surface
has begun to break.
poem and photo by clinock.
art rat cafe 