Breather

 Taking a breather from posting Solara work. Working on a few new things besides Solara. Friendly reminder, you can read some longer form writing from me here. 

These modes of operation limit me
and I am still not sure if the light
above my skull is my own.

The wonder seeps from
my ear and onto the floor
for enterprising ants to collect.

Bring it back to another algorithm
of their own making; 0 and 1 and
heaps of garbage and ant shit.

Someone will call it golden
or another form of high praise
heralded by a dented bugle.

Collect it all and put it for sale under an arcane listing in print or in some coded tubings;

let the people decide.

Solara 26-35

 Full steam ahead, comrades.

XXVI

I didn’t want to write it down/let it come to life off of the page/wanted it to stay in my mind/this swirling kite of internal flames and broken shards of glass/left it to whither in a darkened corner next to childhood embarrassments/instead/it scorches itself free from the paper and sets itself upon my shoulder/dutiful companion/my only true one/long since past the point of a single refrain/a single return to whatever came before its screeching entrance into this overturned room/this mess I’ve made/nothing to be done/everything is already set/

XXVII

When words are set to fire/the smoke is a wisdom and a killer/lifting itself high above the flashpoint of a flame/above our worldly concerns/the sky drinks what comes its way and coughs complicated clouds of sentence structure out over our fair city/the sky, always learning/always preparing itself for the next great idea we feed it/soon, the preparations will be over/soon everything will be the way we dreamed it/one bonfire at a time/

XXVIII

When flame is feeding/avoid meal time/you will see each crackle and burst/a snarl/fangs in a fevered dance with prey/not a single wet eye in the room/all susceptible to the itch/the scratch/the tug of the spark and scrape of each and every singe mark/lining the otherwise plain walls/off white/plaster/peppered with the marks of a flame whose only time keeping is the measure of its hunger/crawling towards what will soon be cinders/

XXIX

More than stupid hair metal/we’re something classic/individual spokes on a wheel that will only move forward/locking itself when reversed/nuts and bolts rusting with speed/with alacrity/we will remain in the front yard/dry rotted memories/a monument to what was once glorious and is now of slight embarrassment/each stupid solo/each flick of the mane/every shout and controlled explosion/none of it matters as the dew in the grass reaches our fringes and sets in/

XXX

What is/left for me/next to yesterday’s castoffs/waiting to be collected by the pickers/dustmen/the trash collection agencies/clandestine recyclers with balaclavas/I haven’t even had my say yet/gotten to shuffle through what you left for me/before/this descent/before the throngs and the multitudes of interested parties scrape the collection for personal gain/before/I can reclaim something to call my own/something to link me from a past to a present/to the future now/and the current then/all/in/one/

XXXI

King and beggar/ascend thy throne to the scorched heavens/clouds on fire again/should have sprung for the sprinkler package/here, on earth/we all stand marveling at the coronation of one so plain/the ascent to a sky so ruined/what has become of thy kingdom/here, on earth/we are far less presumptive/no royalty among us/not in the alleys/not in the dark spaces that sun and sky on fire’s light refuse to touch/wading through the refuse/we are all our own lords and magistrates/kindling for an even greater burn zone/ready for the next spark to fly/

XXXII

Will the molten earth burn through my fineries/I hope not/these suckers cost a grip/a whole band of the green stuff/none of that imitation/performance art pants and off brand accouterment/natural disasters are never timed well, but this was supposed to be more coronation/the scepter is already drooping from this heat/what is one man/even a king/to do about the ambient temperature/my loyal subjects/bring water/

XXXIII

I’ve always felt my most confident when wearing a mask/someone else’s face/someone else’s problems superimposed over my own/the rest is green screen/I am free to be a different version of me/maybe not me at all/to gawk and stare and sneer and smile and weep openly behind this heavy, sweaty material/even with my vision obscured/dehydration setting in/the dizzying smell of a latex overload/I’ve never been more myself/more alive/than right now/

XXXIV

Hello there/hi/yes/this is me looking to speak to you/will you open the door/will you/open your mouth/your heart/to the good news that I am willing to share with you right now/at this location/in this very moment/I won’t even ask for a hug/this time/we may have gotten off on the wrong foot/though I am willing to be your honest companion/maybe even a sidekick/if that’s what you are into here/yes, mother told me I can come on a little strong/but/you’re very important to me/to this entire enterprise/really/and I’d love to explain myself/explain us/to you/

XXXV

Sometimes these feel a little/too soon/too close to the heart of the matter/something that knows me in ways I am not sure I know myself/looking through my soul/instruments of knowledge/instruments of pain/instruments of experience/innocence/music as a weapon X/misery as a balm and a tonic/a body translucent/a spirit on display, rattling its cage/demanding, through tears and triumph/to let itself out for a walk on a day with a clear sky and birdsong/

Solara 16-25

 Going to speed this up a little more because I'm in a different space with the later numbers and I want to share them sooner. NOTE: Image 25 has odd typography because the model I used isn't versed in it. I gradually have gotten more into removing filters from the various models and letting it come up with what it comes up with without any other parameters. I guess we'll see where it takes us.

XVI

Good heavens/we should probably have looked at the weather before trying anything like this/it’s really hit the fan this time/we’ll definitely need the calvary/maybe the Royal Canadian Navy/at the very least some intrepid astronauts with a certain deathwish/we’ll need to fix the celestial reasoning and map the interior all over again/what a tangled web the spider weaves above us/we, the ants/we, the flies who thought that the shimmering grandeur was just a trick of our thousand eyes/now we’ve got some serious mea culpas to be giving out/they’ll make a big ol line and we’ll practice our serious faces again/deep, caring stares/this will take all week/

 

XVII

The globe was glass and shattered by a series of small pellets shot from a pellet gun/hard to know the assailant’s angle or destination/the world spins and the globe follows suit at a counter angle/like all agents of chaos/the pellet flies without any real agency/doing what he is told to do/by a master really no more equipped for the job/than the globe itself/spinning without a sense of dignity/alone on the dance floor/mind melding with the music/a song like no other playing/even the audience is disinterested/the cracks are already forming but for these next 3 minutes/everything is ballet/

XVIII

No thoughts and prayers undo the act when it was undone/they don’t put the python back inside the jar/spring loaded/always ready/have you ever tried to put a snake who has been shot out of a jar back into it for a second attempt/have you lived to tell the tale/you know as well as I do that there are certain things that are happy accidents/one and done and done as one/the jar must remain empty for the rest of eternity/there are consequences for our decisions and snake bites that need immediate attention/

XIX

nature was healing and then we built an Arby’s ripoff on top of it and had to hunt all the animals to fuel BIG MEAT/we were indiscriminate about what went into the grinder/what was boiled to a liquid state and shipped out in plastic bags/what was wrapped up and thrown under the heat lamp of progress/listen, I personally think nature was getting too big for its britches, but I’m usually the guy who orders the salad when I’m out/why couldn’t we get a bistro or something/and just because I work the heat lamp and slice the meat that comes across my deli stand, that doesn’t make me complacent/I have a family/I have a mortgage/I had dreams and look where they got me/why does nature get a pass/

XX

Where will they go/we don’t build the space to put them but/we don’t stop them from marching in on their hooves/planting their defecation everywhere/stinking up the clearing and/ laying down for ill-timed naps/I wish I had brought myself a set of pajamas and a pillow then/I could at least join them/cross the aisle if/you will/watch my step in the field to avoid all of the droppings/it’s about what I expected but/man, if I just can’t stop yawning/looking at them sleeping all peaceful/brings a tear to my eye/

XXI

Sometimes my shadow moves me/I think he’s working against my best interests/I’ll look in the mirror and he isn’t quite there/but I know he’s waiting/impassive shade of myself/silent observer/an agenda in the way he guides me as the sun rises and falls/and even when the lights are out/I can feel the fact that he is out there/ready to take over at an opportune moment/I am saddled with a fear so great/so profound/I will lay here for a while/in the absence of light/to think about my next course of action/pray for a cloudy day/

XXII

Give the unseen majority their credit/I suppose/from the covered balcony of the opera house/throwing their garbage on acts that offend/leaving the peanut shells and coffee grinds and eggshells/for the brightly-lit cleanup crew//each of these acts, a disappointment/ruined by screen time and gazing at their belly buttons/the belly button, a siren song/lost among the roiling current of smooth skin/an indent/the remnant of an umbilical bond/calls to these performers/the unseen majority lets loose their slings and remnants of processed, packaged goods/while we, the custodians, are left to sweep it up/ 

XXIII

composite/I am a single wheat plant/otherwise barren field/another full moon/illuminating my tendrils/somewhere/the sound of coyotes/eyes illuminating the dark corners of a field without anything to offer/my, how the hunger will drive us to the strangest corners of the world/even when the rumbling shakes the earth itself/somewhere the feathers of a molting bird float to the sunlight/somewhere the sound of coyotes becomes a trumpet and the plate is full of color and wonder/somewhere is never here/

XXIV

My light is ill-begotten/placed in spaces it has no business/shining/no business of emanation from the point of its origin/my light/like no other/in the left vertical third/like it is not quite wanting to be at the center of the image/still though/presents itself/presents my fleeting frame/cut in one minute/returning to the reel another/what I would give for some decent darkness/true rest/I haven’t earned this/maybe though/it’s deserved/

XXV

We’ll want the truth out of you yet/we’ll know just the way to get it/pry from you, one single tear of guilt/let the rest remain/you’ll need to save them/as we put your story through its paces/make detailed notes about consistencies/inconsistencies/fun facts to share at interrogator dinner parties/no, we don’t wear these masks at these/yes/our partners make fabulous spreads and never overcook the main course/we could/not be more alike/we could/not be less alike/we are a version of the other/in line/sorting itself/as we go through the song and dance prescribed by our forebears/long ago/

Solara 11-15

Another week and a few more of these.

XI.

Thus arrived at the catacombs, our hero lights a torch/the remnants of a lost civilization/the bones, lots of bones from something not quite him, but also entirely familiar/so many arms/where do they all belong/like lonely people/these appendages/crawling in search of comfort on a night with a full moon/the dead and their secrets/the living whisper but the dead, howl/what will they tell one another/ 

XII.

The simpler explanation for supernatural events/perhaps a costumed ball/or a trick of sunlight/halloween celebrated at a later date/anything other than the undeniable sense/the knowledge monsters are//in fact//the realest thing about life as we know it/all of these white sheets with eye holes/dancing with punch in their hand/growling hearts/waiting for the civilized to descend into madness themselves/

XIII.

Up above the cloudline/mountains jawing at one another/left to their own asymmetrical devices/what comes from above the treeline is a mystery and open note quiz/each one/new dialogues with the thinner air/seeking the view without the squawking dementia of the beasts of air/a mountain will wait forever/until every rock has loosened and all that is left/rubble and ash/the clouds laughing mirthless whistles of a knowledge always reached for but never attained/another game to them/a different matter to the rest of us/

XIV.

Real peace in a single gulp of air/simple and unvarnished/nothing left to consider an accessory to the matter/the viewer looks at the picture/sees himself in the picture/looking at a picture/lets himself fall into the loop he has witnessed/has always witnessed/let us follow this exhibit/this display/to its logical conclusion/in summation/let us to live out the sequence and be caught in its

purest oxygen/know the first and final moment/at once/

XV.

I’d like to believe that the best of us/see it/know it/and know its destination/observe and record the trajectories/make impressive calculations/we can land it on the eye of a needle/on the only solid mass found on the sun/or/an island wracked by turbulent seas/we’re seeing what the human spirit might be capable of/as a carousel/round and round into a black hole/down the hatch/with the best of us believing we can still stick the landing/

Solara 7-10

 These are images 7-10. I'll probably start doing 5 at a clip from here on out. 

VII

When examining the cacophony of the static/locate the world’s smallest pestilence/a plague of microscopic variation and proportions/built out of misshapen, sickly molecules/moldy like old food/how we can be sure be sure the good ones get out/when they escape/quiz them with a carefully constructed multiple choice exam/limit validity/only when you feel the vice around the edge tightening itself/the screws turning/the seams coming undone and the deep crush of the weight of the moment upon us at last/

VIII

Steal the smoothness from my feet/disrupt easy walking/scowl and scrunch the face in a forced demonstration of pain/show those around you/this is how you perform/on a stage, not there/never really present/grit beneath you/wandering eyes track the flight path of your lumbering to the oblivion of your peace/lest i remind you what it is we’re looking to do here/each step already a trumpet’s cry of agony/

IX

God and a man walked on a beach/god was a lizard who carried the man in his dark times/he also carried him in his light times/God was rather accommodating that way/a holy glow/clear skies/all those goddamned hymns following him like sad little groupies/the man appreciated being carried by God/it made him feel A-OK about life even if God was a scary lizard thing that also smoked a corn cob pipe and wore a monocle from time to time/in a time of miracles, this was among the most unlikely, he supposed/a dull breeze at his back/the beach extended forever/there were worse ways to go/

X

another monument of stone facing the visitors from the sea/the shoreline is cluttered/we, indiscriminate in our monument building/the step below sainthood/see the cloud’s open/God’s hand reaching down to adjust the playthings built for him/built for the vessels of visitors/they will know what matters to us/if they can find parking/they too will join us/hand in hand (or whatever passes for a hand in their parts/sing their legends into being/we shall craft their truths as well and blot out each grain of sand with edifice/another goes up now/another tomorrow/and the day after/know our truths