Thursday, January 5, 2012

i watched the wounded animal
down the barrel of the rifle.
as it was dying, it gifted me the wonder of the forest.

back through a narrow shaft of space,
along the bent-light arc of the bullet,
the old creature pierced my heart.


...therefore the brilliance, if present at all, lies in the concepts, not in the works themselves. Concepts are low on market value, so continues the comical scene: throngs gathered and bowing before multi-million-dollared blank canvasses, praying to the god of art, lest they be one of the heretically uninformed.

Monday, January 2, 2012

the sun is shining and i feel so...

this sunshine is so cold cold cold and weak and the color of bile arching east to west casting shadows on a wet blanket of earth

a brown yellow spiteful orb that can barely illuminate it's own shortcomings

the substance of faded cold-to-the-touch plaster and shrill cries and whispering half-decayed corpses