There are no more words to say,
explanations, justifications or ratiocinations
the Witness speaks quiet tones
the Observer shrill observation
uncertainty becomes truth
reality beckoning, finger crooked, sly eyes sideways
oil spreads evenly from the top down, pooling in the heels
Lunging, attacking, wrestling
slick bodies now fitting inside, tightness.
At the gate, stopping
hands touch on cold creation, made by man
to keep us out of the garden, or inside the cage?
not stopping, honoring in the delay
no power can slow the speed of consciousness
slick, flexible, soft boned as new born cuttlefish
spilling leaves onto white cotton, contemplating stars
plotting destiny, fate warms it’s toes by the fire, smiling.
chance tangos with change,
control dipping wildly, long leg darting out of dangerous fabric.
Time waits to be noticed
invisible, invaluable, irretraceable
there are no more words to say,
Here at the First Gate
only presence is allowed.
HA! 2016 artwork: “enhanced vision” (sold) HA! 2010 oils