The Interwoven Heart: UNDERGROUND, OVERHEAD AND THE INTERSTICE PART 2

Thursday, January 17, 2013

UNDERGROUND, OVERHEAD AND THE INTERSTICE PART 2

Thursday. Blustery, icy mist. 4^th day of rain. I love this weather at dusk when the sky is white, tree branches are swaying, and the world is wet, stark & devoid of people on the streets.

Dearest Readers,

The story of the old woman who grabbed a star string continues with part 2, written in verse because I seem to think better in segments, though it reads like prose.

The Interstice- Part 2 Jan.17.2013

She was frightened and elated

As the city spread out below her dangling legs.

Illuminated pools circled streetlamps

And defined the paths of silent cars

Like lines of wooly sheep with tunnel vision

Decked out in Christmas lights.

She continued to be pulled higher.

The strip of thatchy yard and her concrete stoop vanished.

The metal roof was fading.

Like spying a sparrow in a snarl of branches,

She kept her eye trained on its bright aluminum shape

For fear of losing hold of the world as she knew it.

It was cold now, but manageable if she breathed deeply, slowly,

And relaxed her eyes and mouth.

This maneuver stopped the shivering,

And allowed her the courage

To glance from side to side and below her feet.

Her city was gone.

She sensed at one point that she was cruising instead of rising.

Without the ground as marker it was hard to tell.

Stars and planets flickered around and below her swing.

Galaxies jammed the space above.

In a Disney movie the orchestral music of the spheres

Would cue up now, and she would glide on her sparkly star strings.

Fade to white.

An annoying tickle feathered against her eardrums

And broke her reverie.

It grew into a whispering pressure,

Then a chatter of muddled syllables.

Highs and lows, trills and harmonic swells of vowels and slurs

Formed a moving cloud of celestial language across

The expanse of twinkling fullness.

Space was not empty.

The sky was awash in bobbing, babbling

String riders gliding in a weightless cosmic sound garden

Spitting letters that spelled their moods,

And clogged the heavens with three-dimensional feelings.

HAPPY, BORED, CALM, MOROSE, RELAXED,

NERVOUS, WISTFUL, SAD, PLEASANT.

These had length, width, depth, spin, attraction,

And an internal drive that shot the letters like broken teeth out into space,

Clumping together in nimbus globs of granular grunts and resounding glee.

To be continued

45" x 40", acrylic on canvas

My heart in a nest painting that I showed you last week is finished I think. It is also a study in the contrast between the world above and the ground beneath our feet.

A Circle of Holes 9" x 12", pastel and oil stick on paper

This week I fashioned a circle of imaginary insect nest burrows based on this hole study drawing and then leaping from that starting point into the constricted mind of the underground life of bugs!