Tuesday, February 23, 2010

subsequent painting to former post

It's difficult to be cleansed by rain when we're carrying umbrellas.
The following is the painting "Rain Storm, Union Square," by American impressionist painter Frederick Childe Hassam, that I feel is fitting to my former post.

an imagined cleansing

I thought growing up meant a sort of cleansing
no more clinging to the bones of our ancestors
more cleansing
we can break an entry into heaven
more cleansing
we can let ideas fall, rise like tides, and crash against walls
more cleansing
we can speak of history’s eternal flame that challenged man
more cleansing
but, today it is raining
and no one is dancing.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Hope in a cocoon

It’s time to move beyond my facticity and acknowledge the possibility of any thing which, ipso facto, radically includes absolute nothingness. In other words, I exist, and it’s time to move beyond the now what. I want to push myself beyond the shadows that faintly stroke my conscious mind and beyond questioning the purpose of being and beyond reason—and unto the steps that lead to the moon. It’s time to allow for the irrational spirals that dot my unconsciousness to breach the gap between no thing and every thing. I want to believe that hope is indeed in a cocoon—silky, soft, safe and silent.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

facticity of life

There are always moments when the facticity of life strikes me as strange, meaningless and, ultimately absurd. We buy mnemonic devices to remind us that life is... life is ...life is full of fragments or fragrances or figments or narrow arrows or dismembered membranes or ... Our facticity is book ended with facts, insurmountable conditions, but even the fluid in-betweenness can be full of loss, wrecked promises and dull forgivenesses. In those moments—-mud sinking moments--cruel memories taunt and assault us and remind us that life is dying and, if anything, full of doubt.