Liquid whispers
from behind the veil.
Invitations to dance
accepted.
Absorbed by
succulent wetness.
Sinking
into warm release.
Dissolved in wonder,
embraced by namelessness,
diving into light,
drowning
in the confluence
of moisture and flesh.
Sliding
Into
Rebirth.
Painting and Poem by clinock.
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.
Aching to be clothed
in warm flesh again,
feeling it tight and smooth
against muscle and bone.
Hating this cold nakedness,
exposed to the core.
Waiting beyond time
for another skin to slide across
this osseous frame,
liquid, soft and trembling,
smelling of sun,
a fitting sensuality
once so tenderly touched
by a lover’s hands.
It is desires such as these
that binds a spirit
to this physical plane
of sweat and body,
this glistening intimacy.
Under the chill September sun
I deadhead the hydrangeas
and geraniums with shining
secateurs.
The withered blossoms fall
into my hand
and soon enough the foliage
will follow, dropping,
brown and wrinkled
onto the palm of earth,
and the garden will become
a murmuration of skeletons
waiting for new growth
to golden on their surfaces.
It is not so easy to face
this bone racked spirit in my night.
Its rattling visage is not pretty
and its pleading cries
come howling through my dreams.
I peer beneath desires
it breathes,
beneath its mask of dying,
into an endless nightmare
of longing,
reaching to be whole again,
refusing to accept
the flaying of time,
the peeling away
of the surfaces of care,
layer by layer
until there is nowhere else to go
except the beauty of the armature
flying free, released.
And you, my haunting,
whipping my heart
with cold filaments of silence.
It hurts, but you are freed now
and covered
by the bleeding veils of love.
mixed media painting and poem by clinock
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.
Whispers answered
from behind the veil.
Invitations to dance
accepted.
Absorbed in blue
succulent wetness,
entering
deep rooms of warm release.
Dissolved in wonder,
confirmed by touch,
embraced with namelessness,
diving into light,
drowning
in the confluence,
moisture and flesh,
sliding into rebirth.
Painting and Poem by clinock.
art rat cafe 