Heat

It’s ten the bells say, but my eyes will not open.

Sluggish, lugubrious steps

Not ‘slow’;

that is too fast for me.   Leeeeentemeeeeent

Lentement.

Lendemain?

The fly happy in his 40C state

dances around my giant

Bulbous grave of a head.

His

   blood

     speeds.

Mine thickens like wet rolled tar in July.

A frog whose heart beat in Winter

Can only beat once.

Must conserve.

Must get through.

I Walk the Hypersurface (of artist Leonard Jubenville's 'Searching for NOW')

I Walk the Hypersurface

At the occasion of artist Leonard Jubenville’s exhibit, “Searching for Now” (August 11, 2016)

At 16, my life existed in 2-Dimensions.

like a caterpillar crawling one side of the milkweed,

or King Ferdinand walking his flat earth.

Being was just what I could see:

this or that,

here or there –

a standstill of absolutes.

At 36, the 3-Dimensions of my life’s loves,

the new-born atoms of my family,

triggered blood-tie ripples into the world,

each particle concurrently connecting

to the wondrous change I wrought.

At 66, I stand in this 4-Dimensional

hypersurface

absorbing all

the reverberations of

those earlier epochs.

Powerless to change what’s arose;

begun anew:

Art, Babies, Baking, Creating, Crops, Cycles,

Death, Dramas, Families, Friendships, gods

Grandmothers, Heartaches, Houses,

Loves, Lusts, Marriages, Moments, Paintings, Pies,

Seasons, Sex, Sensations, Space, Times, Worlds

The Alpha to Omega of my co-existing

16-36-66-continuum travels

with me

in me

here

NOW.

Melanie Morgana (the opening for Montréal artist Melanie Authier's exhibition, 'Contrarieties & Counterpoints')

Melanie Morgana

For the opening of Montréal artist Melanie Authier’s exhibition, “Contrarieties & Counterpoints” (July 16, 2016)

The Artist works her sacred magic

inside crystal caves.

Wands of flat brushes wave

ink of elderberry and linden;

angelica and jasmine upon

her transparent sheet.

Inks twist and fold,

dancing beneath the Artist’s spinning

light, up and over each

other across and through

the page. The cool colours

and patterned dancers

recede into the steps as

their warm, solid partners

spiral forward.

The movement leaps and

jumps around the altar as the

colours search for their counter

points and partners across the

cave’s centre.

Only White is the Artist’s

Résistance: the antagonist

to all her colours. White

blurs the horizon, coming

forward even when all

energies strive to keep it

back:

The only dissident in a room of

unified magical ground seekers.

Change (At the occasion of artist Becky Fixter’s exhibition, “Impermanence” (July 16, 2016))

Change

At the occasion of artist Becky Fixter’s exhibition, “Impermanence” (July 16, 2016)

1. Shift the colours on your page;

and softly coax your reds and purples,

that have concealed themselves

for years beneath

the permanent seams of this life.

Touch them. Glow them. Let their souls

 emerge, and alter your course.

2. Click the innate lights within,

those ancient synapses of the girl

you once were, and still can be.

Flick on that insight in your world,

firing up the lost electricity.

3. Drift to the forgiving music of

the earth, the oregano greens

springing to reach the hanging

cloudy whites in your air of un

certainty.

4. Freefall through puffs of colour:

down through smoke rings of rose,

lilac, snowdrop and pussy willow

grey rising from the primal pipe of

Persephone.

5. Even after years of dark hibernation,

it only takes the flux of alert female

foresight to snap those wandering

fraying fragments of the self into

the authentic route of your path.

(Chatham Artist Becky Fixter)

Change (At the occasion of artist Becky Fixter’s exhibition, “Impermanence” (July 16, 2016))

Change

At the occasion of artist Becky Fixter’s exhibition, “Impermanence” (July 16, 2016)

1. Shift the colours on your page;

and softly coax your reds and purples,

that have concealed themselves

for years beneath

the permanent seams of this life.

Touch them. Glow them. Let their souls

 emerge, and alter your course.

2. Click the innate lights within,

those ancient synapses of the girl

you once were, and still can be.

Flick on that insight in your world,

firing up the lost electricity.

3. Drift to the forgiving music of

the earth, the oregano greens

springing to reach the hanging

cloudy whites in your air of un

certainty.

4. Freefall through puffs of colour:

down through smoke rings of rose,

lilac, snowdrop and pussy willow

grey rising from the primal pipe of

Persephone.

5. Even after years of dark hibernation,

it only takes the flux of alert female

foresight to snap those wandering

fraying fragments of the self into

the authentic route of your path.

(Chatham Artist Becky Fixter)