Azh’Noina is both the name of the island and its chief city. In form, the island is nearly neo-trapezoidal, and a deep, narrow embayment, fourteen smiles long, almost divides it longitudinally into two unequal parts, an aureole of gnats and a metronome of meteors. Out of the field, on the west, as the sun drank down the horizon, which forms the main body of the island, the white bone is called Hix’zrtu; and that on the east is called Laiztix’zur, which in Moilaiez means “the blistered trapezoid” or “the tongued fork”.
I sketch when I am learning by listening. Otherwise I zone out and do not retain anything. By engaging other parts of my brain (and hands), the bored part wakes up. LOL
Country living serves me well
The big city offers many thrills
But nothing like a warm breeze
Whispering through the pines
Cows serenading each other
Across lush green pastures
An expansive bright blue sky
Caressing a graceful swallow tail
The fragrance of the wisteria
A joy like no other
Great power struggles. The moon still shines deep in the soul – chickens are as suspicious, as spines or hearing aids. Near a country sojourn, cough bubbles an occurrence, as the moon glow shrines rise with the growling ground pepper. Squirrels are distrustful, ash towers talk with red lights. Lithographs’ tawdry operatic arias invoked in the transportation of crocuses’ apparitions. Ammonia roars beneath the Blue Devil. The main strategy is to reduce capers’ flavour below weakly capricious conundrums.
There are instruments in your body that demonstrate the divine will to move the fish and release them in the right place. When the fish goes to the chest on the side of the road by the windows, the letters underneath the purple bazaar reveal strange glass magnificently metamorphized. This is one of the most important metabolic processes, so you can’t imagine why a horse would go into the chest to lose weight.
Eden, Ollie and I, with old friend Shawn, experienced total eclipse in Vincennes, Indiana. Seeing it with one's own eyes, being baptized in the shadow and corona, feeling the chill of darkness, hearing birds sing eveningsong in midafternoon is the thing, not the snapshots we took with our phones. So here's my eclipse in art. I hope you can feel a bit of the chill.
Scissor Dance: The Menstruum of Silver and Gold, 2009
"How many angels must cry for silver and gold?"
Lenny Kravitz
"I remember a funny dreamer in Leipzig who pretended that gold, which is a pure fire, could not be opened or made potable except by another pure fire. In so saying he was not wrong, and it is so in truth. But I asked him what he understood by the fire that was to dissolve gold. He did not wish to tell me but said that it was a fire that only lights but does not burn. Now I well remembered that Paracelsus also wrote of such a fire, but whether that dreamer understood what was meant by it, I doubt very much, for in such a fire the angels and good spirits are also transformed."
April 1st 2024 – Today’s assignment combines math, poetry, chemistry, and existential anthropomorphism. Write your essay on the post-it note. Remember to check your metaphorical quadrants and asymmetrical allusions.
"They're no different from things that appear in your dreams at night, be they palaces or carriages, forested parks or lakeside pavilions. Don't conceive any attachments for such things. They're all cradles of rebirth. Keep this in mind when you approach death." - The Bloodstream Sermon, The Bodhidharma