From a hidden source
somewhere in the mountains
clouds burst forth
as if fed with fire.
A series of slow glowing embers,
supple the clay mutations
that render fully formed figures
connected by luminous wire
and hung from a window’s edge
unveiled in transparent attire
that catches the light
before it strikes the abyss
and is undressed there forever.
The artist conveys the unconscious
visibly in the sky’s mirror
shifting imprints on a wet sidewalk
where dreams stalk the waking
and interpretation is ever-changing
on an ink blot palette.
When a mouth of cloud gapes
to consume the half moon,
there will be one fibrous fingernail
scratching against the darkness,
a sharp talon piercing the mass
while light escapes through the cracks.
Nothing is static nor remains for long
on this borderless screen,
tragic scenes from the past
are replayed on this landscape of glass,
coils of inner state recreate the loop
and you’re held in thrall
while contorted images crawl past,
even here sorrow can find you.
Sifting between the wavering bristles of Cook pine
casting shadows on the rock wall’s sacred design.
Curiosity steals a glance
until pursued through the cloud’s expanse,
seeking refuge, a silky balm
to move across the calm dimensions
and into the waiting arms of the sea.
Disappearing into India ink
like memories set to sink into insignificance,
those fleeting moments disintegrate
into roseate plates
that were the scales of some exquisite snake,
shaking free from the coils,
the clouds now steady
floating feathers in an offering of serenity,
a balancing act over the buoyant sea,
an older me, isolated yet integrated,
our history is one in the same.