Observations of paint # 7

Observations of paint # 7

Mariú Súarez, “Truth”, 72"x60", oil and egg-tempera on canvas, from the series The Beginning of a New Era

Veristic surrealism (vs the automatists )

Paranoiac Critical Method to

Oniric-Critical Method (Dali) to

the path of individuation (Jung)

The inside, the universe, the mind 

twin sun vision spread 

ripples in the great ocean 

universe o mental hyper links to space 

between the time of matter and chains 

icons watch from above the rooftops 

leaning on our brick wall 

the mob stands in line 

headless faded brown, into grey into bricks 

icons; fathers of knowledge, the objects of historys beacons 

are not watching the people

the flock to the slaughter house, already decapitated 

still walking automatons ; drone of clogs 

they are   watching the solar plexus; geometry , temples 

castles; architecture  of a city – scape ; landscape 

of potential creation

the nodes, television heads in suits and dresses 

with corporate cuts 

watch the roads, backs to the people,   backs to the solar

plexus 

blind to the child bridge

crawling towards the rose   on a patch 

of life 

in a crack of grey stone roads 

only extended attention bi 

lateral intention 

through the core of vision 

focus on the child 

ripples in the great oh  see an 

omen obscured 

to grow into a movement 

ripples  in  stale structure 

Observations of paint # 6

Observations of paint # 6 

Max Ernst, L' Ange du Foyeur, 1937, oil on canvas

Vacana of Between 

viii

my bird pecks at the hand 

muse pecks at the seeds 

she pecks  to shape rough 

edges ledges

where the iron monkey used to lean

dangle freely as a rough stone

yet to tumble in the froth of the wild 

river

reaching the delta to build banks of sand

scooped up from broken hour-glasses

my bloody hands build a fire 

 steady hands build with a smile 

hands build  to shape change

weaving  meaning 

the cicada guides the flight of the cock

with dragon tears dancing like loplop

thank you for the blood

O spirit of between 

so much better 

with a muse in the hand 

than a dousin birds on my roof 

lining power poles and shitting 

at your peering eye as you walk 

past 

thank you for the blood and hope

Observations in paint # 5

Observations in paint # 5 

(Yacek Yerka , giclee, the walking lesson)

http://www.yerkaland.com/

by the edge 

of the tree line 

where the cuckoo  Head

has spring-spine wired  to a hollowed nest 

the beast guards  worn 

hound bound and wound  to a regular hum 

the time  of  clocks

time  of  mechanics 

of  cogs 

cumulus clouds boil in shapes of dreams complexity  

landscape stretches out in sublime warmth of colours  endless horizon 

trying to distract the Be(a)st guardian to move again 

eyes covered in chrome  bells 

only needles  syringe to the sky 

taste is lost in the face  of  digits

numbers of an extended 

circle now end on 13 

guarding the incomplete 

dom of little 12's  built to be incomplete

never complete

automata hollow guards the wheels of machines

legs barely holding  his weight

stagnation at the edge of change

his face  a ticking code to change

Vacana of Between

vii


on the floor, in loading docks
our work space is filled
with minds
Attending
Dreams
Holding
Dyspnea at bay

Bottled up by pharmaceutical remedies

Poking your finger in the hole in a dam
Builds the pressure Nausea
The headache , dry mouth
Ramped up heart rate
Crushing expenses


flag poles the will
on standby on a stretcher

stretches the mind
universal focus scatter

white froth, white noise
obscure the embers
of Between

Vacana  of Between 

vi.

 

there is a constant rumble of waves

outside my window

from the ocean of roads

weaving between neon flecked islands

 calming

constant rumbling chaos of ocean

 

I find it calming

o spirit of between

 

Vacana of Between

v.

from start to chain to end

i chased his tail and he chased mine

in the dojo of uncle code

who stained the owl cheery red

cherry marinated in cock

tails drunk that hollows out symbols

in the breeze by the pool in a penthouse

while gourmet chortling at

the live footage of bare fists

breaking a bulls horn,

killing it

only fists

looking at their fading hands

ornate vines

like venetian filigree

caught a running man

like a knot of twine spun

lifted from the ground in embrace

untangled in a heap a moment

of finding footing in new direction

a hesitation

dirty souls

shoes heavy

dirty lungs

mind heavy

he stares into the horizon

she points at the crooked tail

are they parallel?

horison sinks and deforms

parallel ? twin steps head for the edge

of perception

with a Question

of between