stand up stare down step out just like when you opened their book their jar their box and released their words their poison their power. the diffused truth stilled tongues stalled spaces sat asses on stools and you stretched and stretched and stretched your handhold on a comet. your planted heels, your leaned back and pitch forward, your allowance of oxygen meet flame, you watched head consume tail, and you stretched and stretched and stretched the clay of your core, not man made, of mother earth and her hope resided in your grip.
march art crawl
March Art Crawl is an invitation to create, collaborate, and dialogue about creativity with new collaborators.
Creatives will exchange creative pieces during the month of March and co-choose their delivery method, online or off.
Creatives will be matched up randomly by @chrisjcluff and can share whatever medium they wish to explore.
Please contact email@example.com for further details.
You can sign up to participate on this form.
noticing deep coiled feels pent up behind words made almost real as waking steals my attention. no sun rising or bird song teasing will ease the feelings that my art is moving winding grooving in a mind not yet lit up. in and away from a spark in the falling dark thoughts are dualling fueling pens and calling in a surprisingly silent direction. my actions of detection spring from nothing noting herding grabbing new wording that preceded my thoughts - gotta write something.
i used to write poems on paper believing that space to be safer than leaving words, undefended, out in the wide open, naively thinking and hoping that locking my thoughts in a journal is better than painting wall murals. to stand before my words, take steps back, and to still not see my source forces me to accept that I am also someone standing beside someone who also is wondering where my words had begun.
how do i fit all of my days onto the page? he asked. by never forcing pen, head, or heart to agree. the lines answered.