Sang bleu (In the wilderness)

five black chickens quarter death's door
facing the great ghastly tree
blackened mass pool black
upon dry ground

beneath oxidized sun
drained bow in reverence
take down this night
a dedication to holiness
chilvalrous command

ink sweat
sang bleu
the waiting room of the mind
the pattern we cannot discern
assaulted sky
young blood upon her feet.

--27 Oct 2009
--25 Nov 2009
--28 March 2010

somewhere between blood and rust

seething shores descending
sons stagger unhinged and flay
keep safe between bridges
diving to conquer a thing found
dislodged still.

dredges tension sticking
pressure columns palpitate
beating to a future
scars encrust.

the history of rust aching
silent daughters disembowel
a sieve filtering language and bones.

....some glad morning when this life is over, i'll fly away...

suckle unto a solace falling
unmangle and let stay
tincture tastes a stench remembered
among massacred dancing toes
stabbing kisses that damage and hang
spewing severed perception and flesh.

...i'll fly away, oh glory, i'll fly away...

--21 oct 2009

weeping pear

"I bruised my pear. It's weeping."

--composed by Pintitombi

Flaneur

Flaneur for surprises. I'm bursting open with feelings
spilling me bare.

---18 Aug 2009 at 9:38AM

On the ocean (for my sister Jessie)

this moment finally
full of desire
i can touch it
it's right there
everything passing
egypt is waiting us
holding on where the sky ends

this moment travelling
destiny telling tides
surrounding us around
but i'm out there
on the ocean
soul overflowing
reaching for them
feeling life
for us.

--3 octobre 2009

an anecdotal glimpse

"Unknown Journeys"

And then I saw him. I saw him from halfway across the gallery, a guy zooming in on one of my tee-shirt designs, the one titled Yeux Noirs Self Portrait. I was still drinking the first of
two night's glasses of red wine. I approached him and introduced myself as the creator, "my name is Maxime," as the artist whose artwork design he was shooting. He then hurls the camera video around upon my unexpectedness asking me "what's my work about?"

The camera is practically kissing on me for an interview. I quickly shoo-flied away the usual petite swell of shyness, the immediate self-query of "oh what do I say and do I look a bit retarded behind the camera?!" and dived upon the opportunity and embraced the sharing of who I am and the ideas and emotions that excavate my work. I speak say words of memory and loss, something I know to be true for me, but that I now have no actual memory of what I said. Then I tell him I have 4 designs hanging on display in the exhibition...he says, "Where is another one?" I responded, "down the other end, follow me please."

He and camera video trail my excited nervousness to my drawing of three feet titled in Italian and French, Abbozzo _Trois Pieds through the tightly packed plethora of bodies smiles nodding, the buzzing of energy and the subtle frenzy of hands reaching for delicious hors d'oeuvres walked around by a lovely perpetually smiling woman in a black veiled thing wearing red or carmine lips, russet titian hair up on high or above shoulder. I can remember seeing her eagerness for all to partake in her delicacies.

I say, "This one is mine." My mouth opens something about the body, the figure in transience and that the image being a detail of a large figurative drawing I'd just completed; a comment about time. Only then do I ask this blond tall quite good looking Aussie surfer type man what's his name, who is he and where from, what, newspaper or whatever and why is he videoing some of the works, and mine in particular? Dylan answers that he's with the Gallery and that a video is being made documenting the variety in styles of the tee-shirts in the exhibition and that my work struck him as very different from most of the others and stood out striking his attention.

I can testify that you never know where something will lead. Have courage, spread wide and leap off the mountain even in despite of the fear, following your joy with unknowingness,
anxiety and uncertainty! But you may know this and by your life can testify also.

Joseph Campbell

It is only by going down into the abyss
that we recover the treasures of life.
Where you stumble,
there lies your treasure.
The very cave you are afraid to enter
turns out to be the source of
what you were looking for.

- Joseph Campbell