...to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line. -H D Thoreau

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be
to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. -
T. S. Eliot

10.1.11

 


  Ironic.
I’ve always found lewd voyeurism beyond my threshold of adventure. Opting instead for the comfort zone of vicarious. I had worn my best oblique hobo suit in disguise, so I would not be noticed. Alone one can pretend by imagining-fitting-in until you go out and try. I was pulled out of line anyway and put on the road to cavalry.

We fall to collective pieces in being reminded that we were put here to undo each other. The mantra so ingrained that is has been forgotten, and simply carried out.

My vision is wall-eyed, confusing like a double exposure. So, I’m never sure if that tall one is stepping on the toddler or if the bright lipstick is stuck onto the glass. I see a perpetual faux draught landscape to the left. Flies have come and gone for years being duped by the low tangle of brush promising shade. My other eye looks forward and slightly down focused on an angry railing meant to separate.

My peripheral vision spies a group of 3rd graders. They drink liquid that makes them pucker as the first half is downed. The most worrisome two-legged are the ones that leave debris, offering papers, and used band aids. They lunge and back away. They shield their eyes from the glare, and try again to peer in toward me.

I was shot out, tagged the cold wall of heaven, and then ricocheted back down exploding into this catatonic hulk. What’s left is confined in thermo plastic muscle, rubber sinew and synthetic fur.

I have a drip of sweat that has been itchy for years.

I had been a train wreck of a financier. Now trapped behind glass, stuck inside this Rhino, on display in hell.

15 comments:

  1. Any skilled writer - and you are a skilled writer in addition to being a fine artist - must have a fair amount of voyeur in them. Nothing wrong with that, especially when put to such creative use.

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  2. Speechless. So complex yet visually crisp - like you of course. You must reproduce guts at night. You have sufficent amounts to hold on, create and spill some for us at the same time.

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  3. Fine it is and damn those 3rd graders but where's the muse? Nothing worse than an itch you cannot scratch.

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  4. really? sort of creepy...which i like

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  5. Thanks, AB.

    Lonnie, Thanks, I think.

    Baino,
    I digested it, jumped to the left, went through a tunnel, and came up with this. 10thdom was the starting point!

    Tom -- figured! -J

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  6. dang. i must say i fit voyuer well...and i do like rhinos but...looking for a bit of a pucker..

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  7. Because... I am the octopus?

    Hmm...

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  8. Well, I seem to be alone in this, but I didn't get it. Every time I thought I was on the right track, the road did a switchback, and I was in the weeds.

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  9. P - Oh NO, don't try to get it!
    just see it or feel it.
    I've know her and lived with her since 1986.
    She can't be "got". It doesn't add up that neatly.
    None of us do.
    L

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  10. Ok I'm saying this - it's abstract writing. I just interviewed an abstract artist and you two would get along great.

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  11. "We fall to collective pieces in being reminded that we were put here to undo each other." How eerie. And how very apropos the news. Lately.

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  12. Dearest Jayne, I am with you in the intensity, and sad precision of your knife blade voice with words that slice at the pain of realization....I know of what you speak , in all it's complexity... I am with you my dear....
    love L.

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  13. I love the imagery. Although I'm not sure "lewd voyeurism" and 3rd graders should be said in the same short story. *lol*

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  14. displayed in hell huh? now that paints a picture...

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  15. I love this piece, really, enough to send it to others!

    "We fall to collective pieces in being reminded that we were put here to undo each other."

    ~M

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