The Artists CanvasShe begins to imagine the sceneryMore Like This
She takes the brush in her delicate fingers
And begins to paint
Colors of all sorts splatter onto a white surface
Staining into the rough cloth
Painted lines appearing in every direction
The brush holds the power to make whatever she wants
But she has the power to take it over
And make it happen herself
The world is nothing without color
In her eyes
The world is her canvas
And she is the goddess that paints the emotions and scenes
Imagines the actions that have a cause and an affect
And creates the final piece with a war of colors
weaving with smoketime is a healerMore Like This
a wax work clock on a table
that sits on nothing.
giver of life
taker of life.
this ineffable experience of time
that candle wick that burns
and seems to be all there
as the function of language
is to obscure and hide
as the function of thoughts is
to cover over and rationalize
as the function of feelings is
to take sensations and try
to weave a web out of
sensation and experience
has no function,
no beginning or end.
eternity and no-thing creating time
and all things
and there is something arbitrary and
unknowable at the root of
it doesn't matter what words
you use to try and capture it,
it slips through the net of time and self
and everything that you think is
palpable and real.
it confuses me and makes me smile
as i struggle on in a hopeless
search for clarity.
(everything i know is foam on the
finally i let it go.