Images

two dimensional people
living in a three dimensional world
no stranger than three dimensional people
living in a four dimensional world…
after all, Euclid no longer
holds a monopoly
on geometry

the disappearance of these tracks
into a zone of overexposure
evokes a constellation
of associations

Tarkovsky’s Zona
the construct of The Matrix
white light as the sum of all color
the diaphainon, “that which shines through,”
from Gebser’s Ever-Present Origin
the haze of oblivion

how is it that one image
could represent
so many –
and so disparate –
expressions of what is?

and yet, is this so different
from the world itself?

peering in
on a room well kept
for an abandoned power plant
cheerful as a nursery
lacking toys
and a bit of glazing
not entirely well appointed
still, tidy enough
to evoke
the feeling that
someone else belongs here
in a way which
I do not

light and dark frame passage
a portal to a place between worlds
broken glass and spray painted figures…
the real guardians at the gate are not visible
one might well glean that any real access
to the railroad that fades into infinity
requires a certain proof of mettle
though it may be less clear
how that requirement
might be satisfied…
step inside?

a backdrop of branches
made soft by distance
a nest for a seedpod
freshly split open
soon to reveal
fluffy seeds
beckoned
by the wind
and conditions
ripe for traveling
far from this place
while they still can
before they settle in
and put down roots
never to fly again
until the cycle
continues
again

gravity
or wind
or the
pressure
of footfalls
has turned this
plant upside down
suspended
above the bluest
broken glass
that ever
reflected
the sky

the absence of light
lines drawn in charcoal
on a concrete drawing pad
above a pool of broken glass
a jagged palette of watercolors

this landscape in miniature
is it the troubled dream
of a sleeping artist
or is it a delight
to one fully
awake?

broken glass
lined with silver
reflecting a fractured sky
whole in each part

offline
for years
idle, it seems
broken windows
an enterprising vine
and years of inactivity
have accumulated to the
point where the power now
generated is by nature
and aesthetic

starkly beautiful
an industrial postcard
from the seventies