quote of the day

"Even the Pope wants to halt the hostilities. The Pope is on the side of peace and progress and the British Left is on the side of USA Neo-cons. Oh God." – Jeanette Winterson (in her August column)

i gave her some color, she needed it

i gave her some color, she needed it
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

grit (2006)

she rolls on the grit, from cheek to nose,
from lips to ears and finds herself still,
lying barren on silica seas.

the grains scratches her eyes but it is
more important to see the thing that
might end you so she looks up into
the bitter baby blue horizon.

it is that time of day where there are
no shadows of the sun to protect
and only the gaze of a white hot
observer like your old grandmother
watching over you playing piano.

so she remembers giving up the
instrument long ago but the bars,
melodies, rhythms never left.

they refused the abandonment.
they refused to be unraveled
like strands of cultural DNA.

they believed that the physical
are just canvases for something we
aren't meant to really understand.

they believed that this is all a
test for which we will never, or should,
want to see the outcome of in our life.

no song*

no song*
Best viewed large, click on picture. Originally uploaded by equusignis.

the bird has no song so it holds out its wings, aged and tattered primaries.

the multicolored refracted rainbow has left its barbs.

black is now black.

the color of starless midnight, not the shimmering seven mystics of transparent rainbows nor the pretty of the ugliness of the surface of an oil slick.

gloss and shine given to a dusty pallor, the texture of coal in an abandoned shaft.

the bird has lost its voice, replaced it with gestures.

the movements of a crippled crab.

the shuffling of a wounded sidewinder.

he sits and watches the once glorious creature, stealer of flame, bringer of light now at the end of its short reign.

he sits and watches unblinking, dry eyed, afraid to lose the images.

he sits until the predawn dew replaces the moisture abandoned by his tears.

--

*this was a sketch of someone i spied sitting on the train. he had this intent but aloof gaze as the train moved. i made a quick sketch of him and then added watercolor while waiting for a friend at a café afterwards. later that evening on the return home, he was on the same train. he saw me playing with my tarot cards and asked if i would do a reading. i declined but he pulled out a deck of regular cards of his own from his pocket and started an impromptu reading on me as we chatted. it was an interesting conversation but what was stranger was he was reading things correctly that he never could have guessed so i showed him the sketch i did. we continued to converse until we reached our stop. he gave me his email after i told him i was going to post the drawing. it was certainly a serendipitous encounter. there was more to the conversation but that is another story...

hesitant, expectant and intent

hesitant, expectant and intent
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

they didn't mean to cross paths or even directions yet sometimes intersections can't be avoided.

sometimes separation is not measured in degrees but in speed and direction: velocity.

sometimes we don't really know our personal velocities until there is a collision.

collisions sometimes can be a creative force.

collisions can create entire universes...

sleepy

sleepy
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

she was hip and classy. she wore an embroidered silk cap along with headphones and an ipod. she carried a fold-up scooter in a clear vinyl tote bag for that last stretch home.

she was trying to remember her lines from the script. it was supposed to be funny; a comedy and musical, Grease. but it was no match for the drone and rhythm of the train and the warmth of a summer afternoon...

lucid wanderdreams

sunday night's dreams:

i dreamed of being in france. there was a small house. well maybe not so small, more like an old house converted into three units. it was on a large field sort of property. no trees to be seen...

i dreamed of going into a bank with the intent of robbing it but the pretty teller only laughed at the idea and cashed a check for $14.23 instead. but why did she give me dollars when i was in france? i'm such a pushover for a pretty woman. or maybe it was because she was a redhead.

it is now tuesday morning at 4am and i find myself sleepless yet relaxed. i have turned into a vampire, being active at night in these last weeks. my mind is so much more alert when the rest of the world is asleep. peaceful. i leave the cacophony of diurnal life to others.

i've been dreaming of france a lot. the homeland calls to me. the other night, i had a dream that i was there but trying to order sushi in french and it was not going well then thought, what the hell am i doing trying to order sushi while in france? bring on the foie gras!