Demented Confessions 8 – ’43’

43

she knew immediately

the symbolism, the references,

the memory, the confession.

 

there are people in my life

who know more about me than I do.

I make my confession to them.

 

 

Art and Poem by Clinock.

’43’. 6″ x 6″ (15.24 x 15.24 cm). Mixed media relief sculpture in cradled panel.

 

 

Auguries 2

Aug c

Listen.

Auguries fly out

from holes in the world

like shakuhachi breath,

wind through cedars,

wolves and whales,

a crying child.

 

Auguries, (for instance)

single shoes emerge

through the holes in the world,

and make temporary homes

on beaches and sidewalks,

everywhere.

Silent, humble, lonely

they await interpretation.

 

The one today

a woman’s pump,

red, glossy,

almost sexy,

almost new,

and lying next to it,

in the February grass

and last years debris,

a doll’s head

with blue eyes.

 

Don’t you ever

wonder?

 

Last week

It was a coyote,

streaked with rain,

standing, hypnotized

under a buzzing street light.

 

She said,

“Everything is normal

except God.”

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Poem and photo* by clinock

*for best viewing experience, click on image to enlarge*