cypress green water and whirlpools of blinking diamonds white stepping stones delineating dark falls wholesome deep secretive assertive silent negatives of the sky
the eyes to the surface an unseen messenger bird seeks to meet the simplest, the most earnest, the most concise description -the afterimage of destiny an imperfect chromatopoeic liberty.
the passage always stumbles on the same obstacle the mother of all illusions:
a face still extraordinary from the evening yet to be diligently tamed but not entirely rid of the inevitable teasing loose end, a yellow airthin whimsical branch -the possibility,the craving that is: things may be undone from their tense blood-dry completely knowledgeable form.
the thinest, most untravelled, most invincible, most chromatopoeic stranger of a scent, of a sound, of an appearance of barely any substance. an unruly second shoots upward away from the hour's grip like a loose spring. shoots down into the abyss like a perfect stairway in the sea. dead cold then rapid sunrise.
only rarely does a dream so profound so golden and alive dissolve so perfectly so thinly and quietly
-like the shimmering foam at the shallow end of the water the smooth end of the land
-like a coy smile in the milky early daylight
-like the solid painless halt midway the rhythmic dense pause of a seamless wandering dance
-like the swift hand that captures the moment quivering on edge at the floodgates of time.
only every day a face slightly coarse from apprehension and calligraphy -the weight of the world and its wordly longings- that contemplates the possibility of a perfect -midair, midsun, acutely silhouetted- loneliness.
cypress green water and whirlpools of blinking diamonds electric undercurrents of blue weightless nonwords -more tokens of reminiscence than monuments of significance- a face slightly ordinary here and there a bit more blemished-red than desirable a slow unkempt affair, -a depaced walking dance away from the hour's grip straight (shotdown!) into the earnest sighs the roar the roll and rumble the warm friction of boundaries. the red-ring loud loud hollow echoing burning overhead always.
blinking steps stepping stones ragged seconds ragged stars afloat a painting accident. a slowly dawning unkempt face the afterimage of an imperfect chromatopoeic liberty.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More