Something That Passes Through You

Briefly she steals a peek over her shoulder, curious to see who or what is propelling her higher and higher up with the songbirds, into the expanse of a cloud-flecked sky. Enchanted by the flow of her departure, the eyes attempt to trace the outer edges of her exiting shadow. With a winning smile she bears down one last time before pushing off. In unison her hands let go the rope – her body splayed and weightless cast in a glorious arc, extends itself out beyond the frame. Favouring this freedom, her spirit immediately surrenders to the unknown geography advancing on the other side, while everything once familiar, dizzily recedes.

An outline of an incident transpiring sometime before, exists now in the guise of a memory. In its recall, the spark of its reflection carries with it the inscription of a freedom song intensifying in an abstract of light. Drawing it out, a tiny part of self is relived. And even when the image fades and seems no more, its essence shall linger.

. . . . .

She glances at the photo, and the pilot light of memory flickers in her eyes.

– Frank Deford

It Begins In This Remoteness Of Space

I try to fill its empty glare,

to purpose it in a different way,

in the rub of an image or a poem.

More readily than before,

coalescing with a smudge of thought,

ideas start to whoosh all around.

Colour Bulked Against The Day

Some days compassionately we run – backwards and forwards, inside and out, chasing a dialogue tinged with emotions anonymously oscillating from a series of personal experiences and chanced encounters. Certain word choices attach themselves to a barrage of images – their colours bulked against the day, their gaze turned toward the eye of a camera's lens. In time we acknowledge that each of these moment's are an intimate gift, composed of a myriad of gestures offering us a means to portray the truest sense of whatever it is we want to call it. Each confrontation can be viewed as a new beginning encouraging a little more light present in small parts of everything. 

. . . . .

All that is important is this one moment in movement. 

Make the moment important, vital, and worth living. 

Do not let it slip away unnoticed and unused. 

– Martha Graham

Away From Everywhere

Far enough inside, a touch – half-dark, lineal from the heart, 

full of movement and energy – an intensity if you will, riffling through

an illimitable memory exposes an outgrowth of textured emotions.

Beyond That Simple Space

the idea / is where i've got to go / for now its clumsy conception

is but an impulse / to put it this way / to consider it another

inside a simple space / seeing how the light is cast

through a pane of glass / filling an opening

in a painted frame / a focal point

be it that what one

is looking

for

. . . . .

Position is where you

put it, where it is

– Robert Creely