Stillness in motion.
Cold confronts warmth
Cloud as breath.
Force upon the gentle
A blanket of spears.
Limbs twist and bow
Crying in the night.
Revealing new forms
In soft violence.
just an impression
Stillness in motion.
Posted
from New York, NY
a moment between
i heard a voice in a weakened state,
a voice i had not heard
since objects had no names,
a time of magic and joy
that has since faded,
misplaced,
deep in the recesses.
i chase this faint whisper,
a breeze of innocense
born as truth,
sounds emmerge as
light leaps over structure,
shadows pushed aside,
stars now clothed
in the waning night,
and into this still room
so does this voice escape
in a moment between.
Reflections from Venice
Another Biennale has come and past. Another year where the best we have to offer as a Race is on display, and as usual that means the Israeli Pavilion and the Venetian Pavilion in the gardens steal the show... But aside from a photo art-chive of my trip through the maze, I wanted to digress a bit. There is an impression that borders on expressionism that Venice leaves with you, like the smokey aroma of a campfire on ones clothes. Venice seems so familiar and so alien. It welcomes and makes you wonder, lost in it's reflections and light, still yet dancing, never a straight line, you happily get lost in an urban language you knew before you learned it. This place changes as each moment passes, but despite the cries that it is sinking you might not believe it as timelessness begets time. You just might not care that you're lost in it as it saturates all you know. More to follow.
