(( PLANET EARTH ))

read extendable prose
written on plateaus 
outdated negotiations
on grounds faded, dislocated

where bluffs once rose straight
and rivers would thread through
perhaps just a photo
from peripheral view

like pebble broken skin
echo'd waves diminishing
from a weight 
once held in your palm

worship landscapes askew
body-made, sculptural 
a skirting muse
who lives just to break a spell

Laddie John Dill (Sand & Light Installation), Untitled, 1971














LIFE / GOALS

ANYTHING  NOT GROWING IS DEAD
DEEP ROOTS AND WIDE BRANCHES





Lourdes Sanchez via vauxvintage

PLAYING DISCIPLINE BALL


peel, pick & pick, peel
trophies drawn from wavy lines 
 and thick, tangy skin 

sip, suck & suck, sip
ripe, flush with thirsting thoughts of 
 fingers in my mouth

image by Stephanie Sarley


RESTORATIVE

space         between       thoughts
time         between         actions

seeing ourselves impartially
again and again
this space
extends 
past your body





Artwork: Georges Collignon, Structure absolue, 1966

BITING INTO THE ROCK OF FAITH

Juan Osorno: A Little "Internal Estudies" series.  Decembrer 2015 

you hold space, composed
cradled in an unmarked palm
whispering "trust"
to old bruises, precise

never concerned with
a flinch or recoil
dismissed, perhaps
as something you think
you've seen before

wretched little thing, so-like
nerves coming back to life
compelled, stoked 
by a jaw-locked audience
pretending to sleep

we bump into each other
stars that swoon in concert
sprouting, born quiet
woke postures align 
coming into this mouth 
constellational guide


I WANT TO WORSHIP YOUR BODY. EVERYDAY, DRENCHED IN SPRING

mud, vaguely defined
wet sand stuck on eachother
gets hard, after spring


ALEUTIAN BOND

Joan Mitchell,  Untitled, 1969 (Oil on canvas)

i was turned
living through the body
listening, constrained creativity
this space, a yawning chasm
emerges and subsides

animated, 
when actually connecting
that man, no discipline
spread thin over continents
drenched thick in substances

maybe it doesn't matter
suspended possibilities
this shared island of
plasticine permissions
presence is always felt

the thick-weave, first surge 
no guile, no hidden agendas
never covering anything with mystery
allowing ourselves 
to see and be seen