lens of god

at the stretches / vast edges of the universe
touching blurry cusps of existence
life wriggles from behind a telescope
and sits down at the desk
to write. in this moment
evidence of a beauty
(who has gone
away.)
	bending with the curve
of time. the secrets of the moon.
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(black moon silver)

she has these dark eyes
black like night
black like the painted canvas
black like the unlit stage
where the moon dances
shines
glows

black like a sheet
pulled over
your nose
somehow darkness moving
a fragility
a place, a time
before the universe was born

moon
the desert landscape
the lustre of 1/8 of a candle
yet in this night
even a sliver
is brighter than all the stars
a silver slice
of a more magical being

awakening

inspired by audre lorde

why
do we write things
that we know
we will
forget

why give our memories
a place to die

why
these scars
things i cannot change
stripes on my skin
(on the page pens scrape sharp as teeth)


in a forest
where i fiercely
dwell

the tiger's kill
moans and swells
always a sound sleep
in a silent stalked grass
atop a green blushing hill

belly full
and howling moon
trees hold a solemn silence

pieces of my ear
tossed into the mouths of wolves
scent lost in the wind

under the shroud of night
a naked body wrestles in the sheets
a distant trail of ants converge over the hill
a claw uncurls into the sky
lamps flicker:eyes open

moon in the mirror

i believe in the quiet revolution
the hum of the garden at tea time,
the dance of rain on the rim of a pond,
the fingers that pluck to the beat of the heart,
the soul that bathes in the glow of a flicker of flame,
the pen dipped in hot stroking ink bleeding trails on the page
(two leaves of a book that forget their separation),
pastel haystacks coloured fuzzy outside the lines,
bristled lips on bristled lips after a tour at sea,
salty-sweet flakes of the forbidden fruit
a smudge on the cheek of Mona Lisa,
the man in the moon in the mirror.

the sea of stories (and creation)

look at the sky
a web of stars
without lines,
a game of connect the dots
drawn in invisible ink
escaping with the moon

maybe if we were close enough
you could drag your finger through the constellations
and feel each thread, strum a song
and call it god;
weave a patch
in
the fabric of existence

or spin heaven into a spool
and save it for a time at sea,
letting it out at the quiet of night

(or
make a home in a corner of the room
at the light of morning)
hang tiny beads of dew like
drops
of
honey...


and sail on, unfold into a map
a cornered box of a sphere,
the opened gift of raven's chest

float atop
    the sea of stories
               and creation.

moonlight ball

Moonlight Ball (click to enlarge)

This is another MSPaint painting that I drew today. It’s called “moonlight ball” and it’s a picture of two animals, a wolf and a swan. Like any painting or drawing, it started with a line. A shape. And then it evolved into what you see before you. I don’t know if I’d say that it’s a complete painting, but I’m satisfied enough to share it with you. Unfortunately I can only post JPEG’s to the internet (unless someone knows a way to post BMP’s or other hi-res files?) so if you want the real thing, just send me an email at isaaclouie [at] gmail (dot) com. I guess that is the state of our technology, like how you hear the record music of a waltz through the static and “noise” maybe in the future this will be our nostalgic “JPEG phonograph.” So even art, though blurred and distorted on the internet, can still affect feeling and emotion.

What do you see? What do you notice?