Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Just this time, Then once more, Then perhaps a last time –– then I think it will be over. (triptych)

Manifest, Oh?

Serious hard-jawed, high brow art –– bald artists in black berets (black-rimmed glasses). Don’t believe it. Create only for yourself (see: myself) from with-in. No rules, no precedent, no words to define that blissful ignorance. Remove the intellect –– naked, raw, spontaneous, non-thinking (ideally). Something eternal ‘bout that canvas –– something primal ‘bout putting paint on that ole burlap-y. I’ll never do it better than nature herself –– can only make it my own so it exists independently in and of itself. Make ‘em poems. At least that’s the way I feel to-day –– may change to-morrow –– and indeed it may, it may.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

fwooo… kshhhh… fwooooo…. kssshhhhhh… etc.

The golden glow curls, breaks, flits & sprays –– wow. And does it again, and does it again, and does it again… Get it? Better stay until I’m bored. Let it sink, drink it up, punch it IN –– the IN within will have to come out someday.

fields astride, nantuket

What lies behind rolls, glimmers and shimmers in macrocosm all the way across the Atlantic and to ports unknown. Grass under gray sky dances in mimicry of ancient ocean. Concord of Nature Itself –– together, separate, as one & alone –– perfect.
The infancy of love, the nascent of ‘until death do us part’ and the Decent of death. Hands that can't warm themselves anymore make their last impression. The last hurrah of Wadleigh’s infinite wisdom. Two loons, full of Moon & Rusty Nails fear not death and stand, sing & wail, triumphant with life. Let it be, Benny.