Between pieces suspended
voices of past occupants whisper
from red brick walls
Impressions In Galleries
Tag Archives: Art
Waves
Waves on the sand
carry letters
whisper stories
All we are is motion
balance on the wind
Wall Art
They are selling their condo
all inclusive reads the promotional draw
You’ll get everything you need to live well
There’s a stove and a washer
refrigerator, a red sofa, and two beds
A mirror in the hallway so you always
have someone you can tell your troubles to
Drift in and out each of the five rooms
a virtual tour riding tilted on a giant balloon
Each wall’s smooth as sheer windswept cliffs
no art or books here to hold or pause to gaze
Curious returns to the shining hall mirror
condolence messages via a smudged screen
You must be so lonesome here
Talisman
He was dancing
I saw him
But when I turned
he was solid still like death
Tidy crimped in his place
On the front lawn
basking in the pale Saturday sun.
Hands
We were slow shuffling up Pilot Street
I promised I’d show you where fairies reside
Sea was roiling west winds were sighing
Stop for flowers we lingered no consultation between
Sometimes kindred depend on synchronicity not words
Man and his camera honouring life beneath stoic Garry Oak
We decide it’s phenomenon worth brief watching
But it’s the mirror on a trunk affixed askew
Spoke to me about what to do
And I like the way you smiled your acquiescence
Raise your small open hand you gentle friend spirit
I know the difference between a wave of hello and
Help I need rescue
Art
Why should I want to contain you
Place your beauty within this cage in this frame
For is not arresting all at the essence of Art
Fragrance of imperfect freedom
An unleashing
Flight from confinement
Escape from ordinary
Exploration of sensescapes no corporeal beings roam
Wings
Logic and deduction and evidence and explanation
Too loaded to follow
A bridge deconstructed an outline made of squint
Lace and velvet satin and flowers rivulets of sky in an ocean of dream
Scenes of an unscene
Can I slip into my/your/our centre in secret moments
Touch your raw naked pulse
Feel
What it is to know truth at the intersection
Where imperfect breath and depth of life exchange promises
Without uttering a sound
But a shift
Caught drifting soft past
A presence
Something there
Man Without A Face
There is a man without a face
I saw his portrait on a wall today
His hair is black and all in place
Don’t know his name
Don’t know his trade
Don’t know the reasons for his fate
I think a lot about him
Wonder how it feels to vanish with no trace
What it’s like to be a man without a face
Musician
I know you find it hard
sometimes to explain why it is
you tap out rhythm tap on everything
There are melodies you hear
soft as beating heart
There is rage paradiddle dee dee dee
Come passion shuffle
come snare me a dream
Who are we who expect
poet words to connect
The need and the answers
breathe within.
Future
One day
all that breathes life
and enchants our souls
all that we love
all truth and beauty for which
our lonely hearts yearn
will be saved from ruin
by subtle maps drawn for us
in the quiet rooms of
poets.
Complement
I leave small things behind
when places quietly intone
beckon from lonely shadow
some tangible confirmation
I noticed them waiting there.
Pencil Notes 