Between Realities
We had an appointment in Sudbury. The road and time stretched ahead, the minutes piled up with the line of vehicles waiting to take a turn – road construction built up the flow of seconds.
In a pause of motion, an early bit of Fall colour waited at the road side for the season to catch up.
When I was younger, I was not as old, my travel bag carried fewer memories –
leaves turn red, now Fall –
at the side of the road waits
a moment recall’d.
Blue skies
Smiling at me,
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see.
Bluebirds
Singing a song.
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long.
Never saw the sun shining so bright.
Never saw things going so right.
Noticing the days hurrying by,
When you’re in love, my how they fly……
“Blue Skies” composed by Irving Berlin in 1926.
Blue Days,
All of them gone,
Nothing but Blue Skies from now on.
June is a tricky month of memories for me. Father’s Day, my father’s birthday, and my parent’s wedding anniversary( June 21) all clustered together. My father, Paul Kanski, passed away in 1992, at the age of 76. He and mom loved to dance – they grew up in the age of the great dance bands, when jitterbug was king & foxtrot ruled the floorboards of the dance halls. Blue Skies was one of his favourite tunes. Sometimes, late at night I could hear mom singing it to him in their bedroom. Even now in my 60s I miss them – Time is a con artist, handing you gifts with one hand, while picking your pocket with the other.
over me, music –
blue skies above carry clouds
dancing – silent steps.
Welcome to the Asemic Cinema, where opening shots& titles tell a different story from the one passing before your eyes. This week’s classic comes from a time & place that once was/will be. It is a re-write of The Runaway Bus (1954), a British Mystery-Comedy – please note that the sub-titles have been deconstructed to find alternative meaning.
Conversation finds
travellers seeking motion
commotion in lines.
After travelling to the exotic lands that reside Beyond the Borders of The Dreamlands at the edges of the Pages of Imagination , the Asemic Naturalist looks through Memories Sketchbook, cleaning the Corners with Creative Curves and Shades. A Map of Figurative Lines and Metaphorical Letters grows and charts the journey that has been taken, showing the way to New Ventures sailing on the horizon.
These compositions incorporate some quick production preparation sketches done my wife for Elliot Lake’s Roundabout Exceptional Puppeteers. The group was setup by her to provide our local Special Needs community with a creative & performing arts outlet. This season’s performances include familiar characters from popular media culture. Find out more at their Blog and on their Facebook page.
from exotic lands
dreamers return, cling to sights –
on stage rare visions.
The Test commences now.
Please take time to read through
the text –
Fairy Tale of Conviction and Hope.
Remember the Test is Timed.
Carefully read all the questions – Over –
before you compose your Answers.
Take your Time.
Remember the Test is Timed.
The Test commences now.
Read all the questions Over
Time.
Time begins now.
Test time begins.
Once it is over,
Please note the time.
Fairy Tale of Conviction and Hope
Because they have not seen the latest morning sun, the lullaby of trees whispers through the open window. Two turtles dovetail in the clouds. Now this is laziness of metalipsis, not able to find their refreshing habits that are running through first breath of day.
Why you ask ? Ten years ago, a duplicator of spirits was seen in the shadows; a sorrowful multiplication of figures embedded in a dalliance of sweet minimal mimesis . Even now voices softly fade away on the shimmering pond of flowers. Sadly, there is a broken bird song resting in the delicate petals where the sunlight pollinates with soft pirouettes. The scent of melancholy rises up, mixes with hummingbirds and owls.
Like a melted metronome covered in metaphors and dragonflies, the stream in Spring sings and dances joyfully. There, carried by frantic splashes, the Machine churns dreams and octagons, pouring them into jade moulds. This device coexisted with the lovely Mime-to-graph, in the peaceful understanding that each shaped the message to suit medium and the intended audience.
As is with such mechanical co-operation, words mixed in a chorus of similes & sapphire epideictic envelopes. The flyers spread – carrying messages, leaving droppings on heads as they passed. The creases of headlines bleached out the insecurities of the day. None minded the turtles hanging in the clouds, laying eggs in shifting air currents, their shells covered in unsubstantiated statements.
So it came to pass that the destined pair walked through the channels of the towering buildings. Hand in hand they moved past wonders and marvels most only saw manifest in dreams. Iridescent vapour poured upward to the distant tops of the busy buildings, and still the young couple pushed onward towards the Plaza of Solace and Despair.
Once there, they gathered up from the central fountain stirring echoes of the Minnesingers in glazed paratactic pitchers. With youthful certainty they moved on through empty crowds, dispensing conviction and hope stained with tears of happenstance. They are there still, watching the passing elephants sing to the blue blabber wrench fluttering in the City’s ceaseless breath.
A common dream is the Test/Exam. Unprepared, unsure memory, confusion and uncertainty fills the dreamer with anxiety.
Dreaming test – questions
certainty of what is real –
waking in time – hope…..
