28 January 2005
In the still quiet breeze of the night
walking along the riverside,
wet rustle splashing,
black and white sine waves come my way
in electrostatic frequencies that equal
inequality and sound holy, all holy.
fury and calm and I am
reflecting the surface, reflecting me:
a torrent of static, overheard conversations
in my head in a cafe on a Saturday
when the lights are dim and red.
Glowing globes of phosphors
swirling above and the dancing of commerce below
brings me to leap of faith I can't make
(protestations from a former protestant
who's given up the ghost to find the monkey
bones buried in the dirt, an African mother,
my African mother, the origin of our species):
Absolam, Absolam, what smoldering cities we make with greed!
And what will it make of me?
Silver pieces bought Jesus’ body-
What price then for the soul?
I am clanging and empty as a tin drum
rattling inside, a hollow tune:
How can you accuse me of your guilty pleasures?
Michael J. Dingler
18 January 2005
A strong subtle sound,
Like that of a brush whipping
A canvas ‘long around midnight
On a quiet night,
When stillness is still growing
And the paint is flying
To and fro, back and forth,
In soft little explosions of color,
Is a night such as tonight,
Where solitude is painted in hues
Of green and gold; a happy sprite
Hiding in a corner and a fairy princess
Riding dragonfly wings singing
out a song of sweet vidalia purple.
-18 January 05
02 January 2005
wrestled on the floor painting
grout lines with my finger tips
while you slept with the blue
light crawling through the window
your skin cool with color.
By morning you were gone
like the last silk fabrics slipping
through seamstress hands,
your motion like wind through the bedroom,
then the sad sound of the front door closing.
I imagined you moving
across the yard with an armful
of books, stepping with your tiptoes,
dew laying peaceful on moist morning grass.
-A collaboration with Katie Bowler (www.katiebowler.com)
I started out a helluva long time ago with acrylics, which is easier if you're wanting things to dry quickly. It's easier in a lot of ways compared to oil. The colors with oil, however, are richer. Plus, there's a smell to the paint drying on the canvas that makes it a lot more...well, a lot more something.
The best part of it all is learning something new. Sitting down and figuring out a method to the madness and then applying it. I need to learn more about the process of painting and layering and colors and all sorts of crap, but that'll come in time. In the meantime, however, I will enjoy my amateur status.
This is the end of today's pointless insight.