The trail, Monsieur, is a decoy. It does not reveal my whereabouts, or my perspective. I could be elsewhere in the terrain where it is dense and dark and dangerous. You would never guess from my notes and messages. I could be escaping from our field of connections, and yet appear to be available, even stable. If you could know what maintaining these appearances cost you might be surprised.
But this is how I deal with my capricious interior.
Even with falling away, I remain close.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
'serpent of leaves' appears in impromptu dance
Dancing over a rabbit warren in the roots of a green ash that was infected by the emerald borer and was cut down years ago, I wove my way up...
-
I sit before a large painting I am ready to trash to fret about my feelings towards it. Soon I am slapping paint all over the canvas. ___ ... -
Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ... -
Pablo Valdivia, Breathing Underwater translated from the Spanish by Ross Woods Guernica Editions, Fall 2014 102 pages Trade Paperback...
No comments:
Post a Comment