Oil on Canvas
Shipwrecked on the Moon! Like the old mock-ups and artwork for Sci-Fi or Pulp novels, the blocks of color where the words go. Or where the words went. When alone and wrecked on the moon, one might as well walk around.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Walking Away...
Oil on Canvas
Shipwrecked on the Moon! Like the old mock-ups and artwork for Sci-Fi or Pulp novels, the blocks of color where the words go. Or where the words went. When alone and wrecked on the moon, one might as well walk around.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Shipwrecked!
I am on a beach. I am on a bicycle. I am wearing a deep sea suit. She looked beautiful as she stood on her toes to kiss me. Or at least to kiss the glass of my helmet, the glass between us. All I could hear was my breathing. I said Good Bye and the sound of my voice echoed sharply into my skull and shocked me like a wet finger had broken the voltage in my veins. I cried as I rode into the sea. The tremendous echo shattered like glass glaciers crashing into a midnight cathedral.
On The Moon
The sea was electric and bright as the sun. There was no color. I do not know if it was hot or cold. The voltage in my veins calmed a little as I rode deeper and deeper, the deepness came on so brightly that I began to see spots like inky spiders crowd my vision. The tides tore away my bicycle, my air tank, my vision. I was left alone in my midnight cathedral, the painful echo of my solitary breathing painfully crashing like jagged shards into my eardrums.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
