thunder at noon

May 25, 2013 § Leave a comment

time to digest what did not go wrong in surrealism

art like a darkness stretching its blindness before us

eyes on the house: emptiness.

 

in imagination rain comes clean, allowing us to punish its presence

by not taking part in its existence;

a comic wet sadness

 

summer of netherlanded hybrid

mono-grey and a return to the tuscan indoors:

as though firelight in a farmhouse kitchen could cure the sky outside of its acid darkness

 

that is the meaning of being.

not being meaningful, at all,

 

to empty the nest of its life-and-death dualism, and fly as though movement were a kind of freedom

and not possession of the body by the mind.

 

every colour loses its value in the context of a painting that does not respect its own silences.

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