unravelling, transcribing, translating, educating.

I fly into the night far and beyond in search of otherworldly delight. There in its capacious splendour are colour spectrums unidentified, aching to be acquainted with the lunacy of artists and their matrimony between vision and technique; the Chiaroscuro, the Gouache, the Tempera, the silhouettes and the shadows that which they see in the … Continue reading unravelling, transcribing, translating, educating.

the Cafe with Curls

Beauty is a gravitational pull – you cannot deny its existence nor resist its control, and in many cases you aren’t aware of yourself for a few moments until something drops... and you need something to drop so that time may continue.

My Old Record Player

the Harp of Vega

Your geographical face lit up
by Moon’s light
unveiling “Cupid” to my “Psyche”

Her light graced your sleeping beauty,
enhancing more of you
than my day to day kept me from seeing;

there’s peace in the way your breathing moves your body.

My eyes have traced your soft skin,
that throughout the years your woes have torn at and
behind all the scars and the memories

I see your youth and playfulness

A playfulness that calls upon my inner child;
My child that hides behind trees and
wonders and wanders alone and weary, and yet you

You! My darling, extend your hand so that I may touch your fingertips.

There are many things we keep sweeping beneath the rug and
while that rug grows with every unresolved issue,
that taunts and haunts me, somehow
I know that nothing nestled or hidden has ever gone misplaced;

your essence swims in my…

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