Quizzically, at depths of religious beauty – what purifies also terrorizes. P for Purity? Well that’s a Monster Cookie – Clandestine monsters in heavens larder who with angels screaming, would hit a breach!
Poetry had let loose a monster whose mystery was self devouring. Perpetually gazed after grazed after emblazoning with bee twitchery…
Buzzing got so bad, came to point I had to teach myself how to find “lines” –
Which is what I do now ? use drawing to help define edges with specific purpose, as a matter of surface and in a community where search-for-beauty (pre)determines meaning —
Design is a finder after proportions, getting into technical with details and engaging with form, with planes and patterns — Composing patterns, and the application of color. To teach a color theory painting class means I paint too.
But rhyme is a crime of passion. Was riven to tread, flirt after its fallen and symmetries, scinter into blazes, traffic in ancient imp latent patterns, that gravity falls into.
Design became my bread winner. Poetry and the willingness to dally there, feverishly and attack the impotence where hacked and flowered, wears on, as an obligation to “the true,” the randy and the weary, a wrestling with self, of any worth.
Views: 192
Leave a Reply