Monday, January 28, 2013

...and St Valentine astride atop a clamshell...

From the sketch and scribbles that abound around, me
They in their unlightened textures swallow
That which is left, that what is left
The cupboard hollow, save for dust and lost anticipation

There was a golden star pinned upon the ceiling
Its happy spark spun along the almost perceptible bluish plane
I could not depend on where or here
And no matter made, it sated just the same.

It was summer, then in the same, the spring.
It was day, and there were buds that promised
Nothing
But for innocence.

And the words wrapped about me, and that fount would unceasingly
Provide the better and best of fashions long forgotten
The intricacies and fineries of labor
In this space
I breathe little else

- upon the occasion of missing you severely and, in my illness, envisioned the titular subject.  Please forgive my passions, for I shall compose a 2/14 array.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

...updates in the month of janus...

Interpretations of Mary abound at http://edwardianjackal.tumblr.com/.  Trying to collect what I can, when I can, from around the world.

Wattpad updates include the next chapter of Miss Kitty http://www.wattpad.com/11297906-miss-kitty-part-vii and of Charlie Guest http://www.wattpad.com/11295079-charlie-guest-viii.  In the next chapter of Miss Kitty, our protagonist finds that he cannot escape the past - but did he learn from it?  In Charlie Guest, our aging detective heals up with a stay in the hospital.

At DeviantArt, added some photos that capture the chilliness and stillness of the canyons a few weeks ago with Oaks http://edwardianjackal.deviantart.com/.

Still working on Pace and on a few designs for CafePress.  Thanks for visiting...!

Monday, January 21, 2013

...time...20jan13...

How do we fain it as abstraction?
How do we frame it as unknown?
It has a rhythm, steady
Pulsing from quasars
The thrum of light from stars
The decay of uranium
The relation of gamma from one point to the next
as it chases from edge to edge
Even the arbitrary arc of light and shadow mark the rotation of this mass:
dark and light
logic and madness
disinterest and pursuit
We race on indefinite, defiant.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

A Response (1/10/13)

"What illusions you wound yourself, in the indifferent hours of the night?  Appropriate of the time, since you've earned nothing but shadow.  These words, dressed in the finery of imagination, as beautiful (and fragile) that they may be - are false.  You, then, are the same, are you not either shadow or falseness?

I would ask you to question your reality.  How could you know something with such permanence, with such tangibility?  My answer is sir, your nature is askew. Shadow has no permanence - tangibility is modal.  You have something or you do not.  Such is love.  It is shared [a fundamental misunderstanding for your ilk] - you don't seem to get this.  You.  You in your bell jar casting webs that cling to themselves.  Did you honestly believe that I could feel them?  That there was some magical thread that can bind us together - what were it true.

Keep to your world and stay you from mine.  My world is reality; it has substance.  I want to feel the wind and sun upon my face and the grass under my feet.  I don't want a treatise on the matter.  Nor would I want to cast a pale light of reflection for a day.  You could never offer me that.  Yours is words, empty and, worst above all, alone.  Poetry is the language of loneliness - those that pine for all, but do nothing but fetter away their breath 'in love'.

How do you live this way?  Honestly?  You say your passion is a tide, that your love is unending.  What energies do you expense in this prattle?  As kind as you may be sir, I find this whole matter sad.

Give them to me not [the items encapsulated herein this box].  I cannot use them.  Do not use me as a caricature in your stories.  I shall know.  Do not think of me again.  I will certainly not of you."

[The box sits unopened.]

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

...it were not true...

Bite it, your tongue, let it not say what were not true
For I'd have no cause for it, what you said
I am not made of it, abhor it,
Especially for you
That is absolute
Greys are for those that cannot actualize the core of their existence
That is not me
I am a pattern vertical of either or of binary
Say that it may bore you sure
But where the light of stars were not more than a map for the ancients
As it may be a light of dreams for others
Can there not in me something ephemeral
A light to depend upon when you need it
For a star has no concerns of itself
As is me.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

...the lion, the fox and the ass...246 of Aesop...

To paraphrase: the lion, the fox and an ass went hunting together.  At it's conclusion, the lion suggested the ass split the spoils.  The ass did so in three equal parts.  The lion was incensed and sprang upon the ass and tore it to pieces.  The lion than asked the fox to divvy the spoils.  The fox ate only a morsel.  At this the lion asked, "How did you arrive at such a conclusion?".  "I took a lesson from the ass."  -  Happy is he who learns from the misfortunes of others.  - Aesop 246

Do you see the metaphor here?  I bet you could.  We'll either be asses or foxes.  We can sustain as foxes, but it shall be sustenance only.  Happy New Year.

Ah, creation!  How I miss you so.  It's been sometime, the holidays upon us and whatnot.  But, back to creation - what I pine for in these long dark days.  I missed you as well.

Thus far:
- DeviantArt is updated.
- WattPad Charlie Guest has a new chapter.
- TwitPic is updated.
- FaceBook ditto.

Coming soon:
- YouTube will have a few new videos - editing them this weekend.
- Tumblr. will have new photos of Mary.
- CafePress will have some new products.
- PhotoSite and much, much more!
- Books!   Why not?!

2013 is going to be an awfully grotesque year.  *party favor blows