Category Archives: Creativity

Handwritten Pages #15

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     She ties the dressing gown around her waist. Lines up her toes where the metal coping separates the hallway carpet from the bathroom tiles. A diver’s stance. Anticipation of the tiles’ coldness.
     She steps. Plummets. Side steps the bath mat. Plants her feet squarely. Small ripples quickly subside. The cold tiles prickle the soles of her feet until it stings. Tapers off to an equilibrium.
     Repeatedly she will lie on her back on the bathroom floor undressed. Lets the cold of the tiles fight with the heat of her body. She relents. Acquiesces. Adds a layer of permafrost to her heart against the fire of her mother’s tongue.

Zentangle #14 Answer

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ANSWER

A fragment of answer
crept
inside the door
stealing through
like little children

Zentangle #13 Notebook

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NOTEBOOK

the notebook was
a promise
to never tell lies

Zentangle #12 Decoration

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DECORATION

below ground
a decorated
little brother
the bedside table
a vase of flowers
a dustpan and brush

Zentangle #11 Information

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INFORMATION

two bodies
of flesh and blood
turns to information
there’s mischief in creation

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WEIGHTLESS

lock the door
slide
to a stop
like a weightless
Or
Or
Or
Or
Or
Or
Or
Orgasm
hover in
eternity

 

Coming Soon:
I am making my Zentangle and Blackout Poetry for sale.  Stay tuned.

Zentangle #10 Play

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PLAY

if no children 
play
there’s no story

Zentangle #9 Cinema

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CINEMA

retreat
to witness
the cinema
in your soul
shout and scream
“I want 
to believe
I’m just so!”

 

The alternative title for this poem is “Existential Bullshit” because nothing says existential, nihilistic angst crisis than an appropriation of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” 

On another side note, I will soon be making my zentangle/blackout poems and Handwritten Pages available for sale. Stay tuned.

Zentangle #8 Coloured Pencils

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COLOURED PENCILS

create something
slightly different
give life
to coloured pencils
All mysteries are
meant to be

More Blackout Poetry To Keep Making Art

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MAKING A POET

I shall
taste
the emptiness
of years
and
swell into
a poet

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PUBERTY

I’m not
fully conscious
why
hair grows
in other places
all that flesh and blood is
the idea
to grow up

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QUESTIONS

I ought to really
ask you a typically stupid question

Zentangle #7 Bare Feet

bare-feet

Every so often
walk with bare
feet
in the trees
stand and
imagine

And a bonus black out poem

the-other-side

I know 
the other side
I know
another direction