Cento poem, June 2010


Fallen. From a lofty place
The minor is always the undoing of the major
A tiny fainting spell:
A lapse, a descent, a fall
Intoxication, loss of consciousness, loss of self.
One cannot see any ice near the fire

A fall into self made with the explicit purpose of losing the self in desire
The greatest brightness, short of dazzling, sets near the greatest darkness

Color itself is a degree of darkness
The living strives towards color-
Alcohol drives color away
Color is killed in favor of form
The dream is always on the edge of nightmare

We have no sense of direction; we drift.
An abyss; disorientation, loss of consciousness, descent
Substances appear in color because they have released themselves from the moon-
the sun can give them nothing more
The sky was night, fury, and death; earth is clear sky, sunlight, and warmth
Eyes closed, drugged, unconscious
A gracious woman portrayed naturalistically
is not killed
but murdered
The individual is wanting in judgement
Just as a dream inhabits it’s own proper atmosphere,
so a conception, become composition
Thoughts stand still.

"The More Loving One" W.H Auden ------------------------------------------ Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me. Admirer as I think I am Of stars that do not give a damn, I cannot, now I see them, say I missed one terribly all day. Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky And feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time.

Wonderful

I once had a dream of you

You were facing the sky

As if my gray were your blue

I tried to scratch away at the iron facade that bound us

As if it were a scab

and if I were lucky-

The sky would crack

And your blue- your luxuries- your wishes; your hopes inexorably

would be the death of you.

Your failings would fill my containment

With a soothing liquid

Until I floated and flooded, over the walls that confined my being

and your misgivings would be transfigured into my joyous contentment.

Dimensions: Variable

Our dimensions are always variable, we exist in manifold realities. Photography can momentarily encapsulate this essence as our physical being is broken down into a reflection of light within a series of frames.

Canon AE-1 photo scans

   
Indeed these are old, about a year old, but i felt compelled to put them on here. Most of these are just for fun when i was just dipping my feet in 35 mm photography

The tide of emptiness is subsumed back into itself
Lethe is beckoning me once more
I stand on the shore of my own consciousness
The shallow, murky water of time and space
It is a veritable antarctic illustrated in monochrome
Beyond the shore I see him-
The shadowy figure calling out to me
His black cloak a patchwork of transgressions
His face, components of an inner reflection.
The sickening pallor contradicting the seductive eyes of the familiar
Outstretching his hand, the forbidden longing
of a dark desire, a hungering to fill the void;
With another void complete.