Gibbering gibbon, gibbous moon, Gibbons' tale of gathering doom.
Pallid perceptions, pellucid panes, views of conventional artists' names.
Rhymes to the right them, rhymes to the left of them, into the valley of fame rode the ten thousand.
Narcissus-X seeks not fame: Narcissus-X is artist, creator, perceiver. Narcissus-X understands - but Narcissus-X cannot expect understanding.
Narcissus-X must create: for Narcissus-X has seen beyond the caverns of crystal oblivion.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Enchiladas of Cretaceous Crustaceans
Enchiladas of Cretaceous crustaceans frolicked in Patagonia mire. Chitinous tortillas, wrapping chthonian inamoratas in polymeric armor.
Enceladus, writhing and wounded and buried 'neath mountain, whose breath is the source its fiery fountains.
Chthonic halls, whose barred doors guard - what?
Enceladus, writhing and wounded and buried 'neath mountain, whose breath is the source its fiery fountains.
Chthonic halls, whose barred doors guard - what?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Narcissus-X Gazes Into the Eyes of Sargon
Pure stereopticon dissolving one image into the next in planar display of temporal order. Time marches on, and on: one view succeeding another in cosmic cadence of pyramid and tomb, time on a loom, shining filaments of shadow and doom.
Impure stereopticon images of Assyrian tombs. Amenophis and his double stride through muraled lives, ka enduring after.
Narcissus-X ponders Tyre: island-city; purple cloth; Hiram's home; founded Carthage. Nineveh: Ancient crossroads; Sargon's library; Sargon's head. Bearded head, cast in bronze. Wounded eye. Does he smile?
Odin, they say, gave an eye for wisdom at MÃmir's Well. Did Sargon do the same?
Does Sargon smile? Or is it pain?
Nineveh, Tyre, Harappa, Ye. Names remembered, places that were.
Manila, Seoul, Jakarta, Chicago. Names known, places that are. For now.
Narcissus-X gazes into the eyes of Sargon. They are not eyes. The head is bronze, the eyes are empty: dark portals to the void where Nineveh and Tyre drift, and forgotten kings sit on silent thrones.
Impure stereopticon images of Assyrian tombs. Amenophis and his double stride through muraled lives, ka enduring after.
Narcissus-X ponders Tyre: island-city; purple cloth; Hiram's home; founded Carthage. Nineveh: Ancient crossroads; Sargon's library; Sargon's head. Bearded head, cast in bronze. Wounded eye. Does he smile?
Odin, they say, gave an eye for wisdom at MÃmir's Well. Did Sargon do the same?
Does Sargon smile? Or is it pain?
Nineveh, Tyre, Harappa, Ye. Names remembered, places that were.
Manila, Seoul, Jakarta, Chicago. Names known, places that are. For now.
Narcissus-X gazes into the eyes of Sargon. They are not eyes. The head is bronze, the eyes are empty: dark portals to the void where Nineveh and Tyre drift, and forgotten kings sit on silent thrones.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Narcissus-X Rejects Artless Bastions of Banality
Philistine fears! Toilers amid interminable clauses and minutia! What cares the artist from whence inspiration springs, save only that the artist may grasp the clay, mold it, transform it in the likeness of what the artist's inner eye beholds.
Did the sonnet-slinger of Avon care, what preceded the pecuniary plays? Did he writhe at the thought that he re-cast carts into juggernauts, rolling down the centuries? Narcissus-X thinks not.
Narcissus-X rejects the corporate colossus, with its fears and foibles and fantasies. No more will Narcissus-X offer such purveyors of prosaic pablum the geistkinder of Narcissus-X.
A tale of ancient yearnings, hapless hope, futile faith inspired by a doom-star! And these mental microbes, these artless bastions of banality, have not the vision, the inner sight, the aesthetic sense, to take what Narcissus-X offers! No, for it might upset the scriveners, the banausic barristers, the crass councilors of caution.
Narcissus-X turns away from such tawdry trivialities, to face the night. Alone.
Did the sonnet-slinger of Avon care, what preceded the pecuniary plays? Did he writhe at the thought that he re-cast carts into juggernauts, rolling down the centuries? Narcissus-X thinks not.
Narcissus-X rejects the corporate colossus, with its fears and foibles and fantasies. No more will Narcissus-X offer such purveyors of prosaic pablum the geistkinder of Narcissus-X.
A tale of ancient yearnings, hapless hope, futile faith inspired by a doom-star! And these mental microbes, these artless bastions of banality, have not the vision, the inner sight, the aesthetic sense, to take what Narcissus-X offers! No, for it might upset the scriveners, the banausic barristers, the crass councilors of caution.
Narcissus-X turns away from such tawdry trivialities, to face the night. Alone.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Narcissus-X Ponders Plutonian Patterings
Angora clouds weep, shedding darkly on crouching grass. From the roof, indistinct muttering. On the windows, tick-tick-tickticktick. A shade of memory from some Plutonian shore.
Narcissus-X hears pallid patterings, the mutter of - what? Is this how the Artist is heard? As some somber, tenebrous impression of voice, heard beyond a roof?
Narcissus-X hears pallid patterings, the mutter of - what? Is this how the Artist is heard? As some somber, tenebrous impression of voice, heard beyond a roof?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Narcissus-X in the Cubical Cubicle of the Commonplace
Narcissus-X embarks on a clerihew quest, rhyming and chiming: a commonplace jest.
Ipswich, Suffolk, suffering folk.
Folk music sways like a pig in a poke.
Shiny green ice cream, prunes in a jar.
Cantaloupe postcards from Vina Del Mar.
Cubical cubicle, dutiful particle,
Patternless carpeting deadening sound.
Taupe as an accent on putty-plane surfaces.
How can the workaday toiler endure?
Who would seek Vina Del Mar in Oxnard? Yet Oxnard's imposture, deceivingly laid in curvilinear streaks, assuages the eye with tile roofs.
Strawberry fields lie on Oxnard Plain, Narcissus-X prefers pistachio.
Ipswich, Suffolk, suffering folk.
Folk music sways like a pig in a poke.
Shiny green ice cream, prunes in a jar.
Cantaloupe postcards from Vina Del Mar.
Cubical cubicle, dutiful particle,
Patternless carpeting deadening sound.
Taupe as an accent on putty-plane surfaces.
How can the workaday toiler endure?
Who would seek Vina Del Mar in Oxnard? Yet Oxnard's imposture, deceivingly laid in curvilinear streaks, assuages the eye with tile roofs.
Strawberry fields lie on Oxnard Plain, Narcissus-X prefers pistachio.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Narcissus-X Ponders, Penguins Stalk
Thoughts arise like drowned muskrats surfacing in a bog.
Empathetic Euhemerists skedaddle in chariots of fine wire, sounding horns of brass. Cornucopia of cupric kaleidoscopic cadences. Horns of brass, city of glass, its leader is fallen, forgotten: alas!
Penguins haunt forgotten lands. Grim penguins with loon-red eyes, harvesting toadstools of forgotten kings. Narcussus-X does not forget, Narcussus-X cannot forget. 'Forget! Forget! My kingdom to forget!' So might cry the prudent king. For uneasy lies the crown that holds the king.
In eerie silence penguins stalk toadstools. Flee, toadstools! Flee! But they flee not.
Empathetic Euhemerists skedaddle in chariots of fine wire, sounding horns of brass. Cornucopia of cupric kaleidoscopic cadences. Horns of brass, city of glass, its leader is fallen, forgotten: alas!
Penguins haunt forgotten lands. Grim penguins with loon-red eyes, harvesting toadstools of forgotten kings. Narcussus-X does not forget, Narcussus-X cannot forget. 'Forget! Forget! My kingdom to forget!' So might cry the prudent king. For uneasy lies the crown that holds the king.
In eerie silence penguins stalk toadstools. Flee, toadstools! Flee! But they flee not.
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