NightBrain

Friday, October 2, 2009

Oil on canvas
18" x 18"

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.

Friday, September 11, 2009

I don’t know how long it’s been since the blast. I don’t know if I’m alive or dead, but I can hear my breathing. Or maybe it’s the beating of my heart. It’s the only thing I can hear.

I can remember the way she looked at me, or looked. I don’t know if she was looking at me, but the stare in her eyes was that of a distant storm. A restless beauty, a rumbling and rambling quiet, the vibration of thunder.

It was totally dark. I could hear my breathing or heart beat, I’m not sure which. I was floating in space. There was no water, no air, no up, no down. Like I said, I was floating in space. The only thing I could see was my memory of her. The only thing I could hear was my heartbeat, or maybe my breathing. I couldn’t feel a thing. I was floating in space. I needed to cry again because it was the only physical thing I could do that make manifest the sea inside, but the sound would have been too devastating, too jarring, too shockingly loud. When you’re floating in space, there is a quietness, a numbness. The only sound is my breathing or my heartbeat. The echo of my own voice is too painful when you know you’re alone, when you’re floating in space in a metal cathedral.