“Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together. But when I look ahead up the white road. There is always another one walking beside you.” / T.S. Eliot. The Waste Land.
Three. 20×30 in. 50×76 cm. Acrylic on canvas. By Clinock.
for all who have loved deeply
for all who have said goodbye
because there was no other way
for the grace and courage of those
who can look into anothers eyes
feel the pain and loneliness
tearing the heart
and not turn away
I couldn’t decide which to use. Both bring tears every time I watch. Both evoke emotions I have no name for.
Ghosts pass by.
Abandoning armchairs,
stubbing out cigars,
quaffing the final drop
of vintage port
they float away,
down the back stairs,
checking their auras
in the cracked mirror
as they go.
Ghosts pass by.
Evicted from rooms
of haunted sleep,
they pass on, like wind,
like a Fellini parade,
a dust blown cavalcade
of ragged motley
seeking another home,
another creaking attic,
another empty shell.
Ghosts pass by.
Swathed in scars and chains,
autumn leaves and broken hearts
they pass the open window
of my glorious night.
Weeping phantoms,
restless souls and spirits,
their gaze is losing me
and I watch their sad ambling
with eyes of dawn.
Ghosts pass by
in feather boas, painted rags,
stained armor and cloaks of stars;
a susurration of shadows
shimmering with enchantment;
tears and whispers in the night.
Ghosts pass by, darkly inviting
but I turn and touch the sun,
and am exorcised again
in pulsing light.
~~~
Acrylic painting and poem by Clinock
Edited redux from October 2013
Full moon tonight.
Her name is Lilac Moon,
Womb of Spring,
Hidden by Clouds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lilacs are out in Vancouver.
Spring always smells like you,
but it never lasts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The magnolias bloomed
and were gone
in three days
this year.
~~~~~~~~~~
The flowers of May
come and go.
~~~~~~~~~
The lilacs may last
a little longer.
~~~~~~~~~
Because it brings me back you…
art and poem by clinock
Painting: 20″ x 16″ (50.8 x 40.64 cm). Acrylic on paper.
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
It has been a long winter.
Renovations have not come easily
but they have come and I’m sure
will continue to come
until I am bones in the beaks of crows.
My muse rings the changes too.
It’s a game we play, it’s called hide and seek.
There are blindfolds on both sides
and the snow has been deep
and renovations have been difficult.
But don’t hear me wrong,
there is always laughter, wonder and light,
the sparkle of space and love
as I sweep the corners clean
and imagine everything new again.
Art and poem by clinock
Painting: Winter Muse. 20 x 16”. Acrylic on canvas.
Hello everyone. The changes are obvious I think. I hope you have no problems with navigation. I am working on a separate ‘portfolio / gallery’ site just for my art. I will post the link when complete.
Renovations, actual, virtual or metaphorical are ongoing.
art rat cafe 