4/28/14

 

Angles, scribbles,

legs & glances

the eye too has a depth

of field like a camera,

an aperature being

a door which is in turn

an opening & an opening

is just a punctuation

of empty space, which

exists outside of us, or

within, mostly figuratively

but for the lungs, those

emptinesses upon which

life depends being filled

& emptied & filled

& emptied like the world

itself or a heart or

a soul.

The rhythm of color, starts with 

a strike, ends in gris, the 

neurotica 

poison: "everything that 

happens 

to me is my life."