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Bohemian Shards

Revisit tombs, dead leaves, dying wind, failure of kings– kings overthrown in the rebellion

Insanity writ large– man w/ big plans, empty hands–

but Prometheus brought fire–

smoke and flames behind prison walls, fences of razor wire surrounded by vast emptiness beneath the crescent, ritual moon

Ancestral leather flesh forms a grimace in sunless bogs,

lips baring teeth in mock smile of agony

–dying breath turns moonlight into drifting snow

Chance, risk, dance

above the abyss

Find your way home through the falling stars.

Love songs, pop songs, flicker in and out of earshot through the window of Room 100 and down the alley. Green leaves and a sky of electric blue darken to scorched blackness of wrought iron with night’s cooling approach. Morning brings a train.

As an artist, one participates and observes. It is a phenomenon of consciousness, this relentless desire to experience more than the world of objects and subjective emotions, perhaps a driving instinct of a mind and spirit skeptical of the idea that man is the measure of all things.

What you feel and what is real
May not be at your fingertips
Nor in the words that cross your lips…

Music Link: These Chains