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.

Ship Wrecked on the Moon!

Mixed media on Paper, 24" x 36".

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.

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.