Shock

I.

read
over
the shadow
on the
rock

where one
can find
comfort

sharpening
the tools

II.

and the delicate
stops

of directional
wonder

Directionless Map

I.

Do you remember
the garden grove?

The gate of flesh

The closed release
of delight

To openness

II.

Now it blocks
of certainty

Only
to reach
a dissolving clue

Held
of an
instant

Disappearing
that way

Congealed
in every

That is
only one
way

A Lover's Climb

It climbs

Over hair

Tanned slight

Did you?

When walking
the disquieted jaunt

same image as below (blizzo hides his face) with a bit of liquify effect. a lovely little abstract bit.  

blizzo hides his face in shame 

three wee kings 

another drum stand. in reverse order. 

allright allright... i take it all back, i'm still and forever on the blog. this is something i call "drum stand"... from a recent label rock show, and the wonder of photoshop. i'm just learning it, but it seems to be an endless creative tool for the artistically challenged like me. 

Cooper, 2005, 6" x 4", by James Culleton 

Blessing in kind

Fellow prisoners
of the blessing:

We are no different
in kind

Only in degree.

Is/Be

jenni's signage ideas. also, she made comments on each of the "blue" designs. also included here are my feet. 

cruise night, portage ave. 

MISSING-- HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PERSON??? goes by "killah", used to play blues, drink wild turkey, hang at label. don't let the flattering picture fool you--he's a truly sinister character (operates canada's only kitten smashing factory). if you see him, tell him there's a warm drum kit waiting at the label... 

"On Guard for Thee" ... the CBC building, winter sunset 

Reve, by Denis Prieur 

Bateau, by Denis Prieur 

round two of the planting show is soon to come... and may be visiting a gallery near you quite soon (TO? MTL?) 

ah yes... the countourists. when will these three meet again? in thunder lightning or in rain? when the hurlyburly's done? when the battle's lost and won? IT'S TIME FOR A COUNTOURISTS SHOW!!! (by the pricking at my thumbs, something countour this way comes) 

a blast from the past. note the penetrating, all seeing gaze--the lidless eye, wreathed in flame.  

If i die of vanity promise me promise me if they bury me someplace i don't wanna be/ you'll dig me up and transport me/ unceremoniously/ away from this swollen city breeze/ garbage trees/ whispers of disease acts of enormity/ lower me slowly and sadly and properly/ get ry cooder to sing my eulogy! -- gord downie ("at the hundredth meridian)