Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
The Bowery Presents
The Stonewall Inn
occasionally subtle
Misplaced Lens Cap
Claire Keane
KIROKAZE
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Jules of Nature
No title available
$LAYYYTER
PR's Tumblrdome
Fai_Ryy
oozey mess
todays bird
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Show & Tell
Cosmic Funnies
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Mike Driver
seen from Mexico
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@z3461302
10. After being introduced to Sarah Goffman in class earlier this semester i returned to her work, ‘Plastic works’ for inspiration. http://www.artroom5.com.au artist_sarah_goffman.html The notion of transforming an object into another through the rethinking of materials appealed to me, as well as the suggestion of wealth through the appearance of an object and the questioning of value.
Knotted skies form boxes in our minds eye
Melancholy eggshell stripped bare of all memories
Pop the wrapped world and escape the noises of the night
Pieces of pieces of pieces of things
The first of my experimentation with dada and cubist inspired masks.
Nature Isn't Present When Nature Is Dead
wandering, lost in the sea truanting on a season of flower melting the rivers magic with your late night warmth the fibres curl nerves vibrating the buckled shell
edges sharp inside of me absent. but ever-present.
adorning memories to cork the pain. beating evenly in time next time watch them dance on the chalked pavement
eyes-wide and lips swollen i pulse, remember. nerves perforated, sober blood running. shuddering the settling chill whispers echos, christmas morning gone again.
---Genevieve McConnell
Dada inspired poem attempt 1. But what does it does it mean? It doesnt matter.
Untitled
rehearsing steps infinitley our bodies formless against the night we fall, blackened, ill-footed. towards the world of colour how yellow is blue in scale to its counterparts. bite down into cracking plastic climb the rope. strands malting away from the sun. hunger organs crystalize the power they hold. shuffle across plains of broken soul. raw and damp hatted heads, safe in comfort. your master hammered is protected. begun big on action, little on humour.
---Genevieve McConnell
Untitled until titled
Questions Without Subjects
through endless balloon tails its stuck in my system. salt and sugar rolling. twisting in a daylight. endless hole. i want you to love me. upside down, but the right way around. 3 down but 4 to go. theres something thats moving, but we are all blind.
rotten peaches licked by a superior, waiting alone in the dark weather. crumbling beauty but the biscuits were sweet. fleshy handles curling in heat.
numbing endlessly bare, rough and woven. sparkling and returned thrice a meal, swollen with ease, the hand was home. while prancing with sharp eyes.
---Genevieve McConnelll
Dada inspired poem attempt 2. The things that people say and do make marks on those around them. But what if no one is around? What happens to the marks?
Confetti Covered Pavement
judged by the time behind his tool, eventually always victorious crunch of a leaf beneath the machine with slit eyes
weight by the dead and departed gone like the howls outside a fishbowl overlapping and lonely aside separated by their homes.
eves’ fruit or mans’ helmet wrapped the pipes of air hard sherbet separates aquatic at last primitive on the storm, blood, guts and ritual suicide samurai. self-inflicted truth of a punk, false or utterly absurd.
---Genevieve McConnell
"Any work of art that can be understood is the product of journalism. The rest, called literature, is a dossier of human imbecility for the guidance of future professors."- Tristan Tzara
Woven Baskets Leaking Life
sensory systems meet, in a past page of childhood. splurred bodies swipe their skin against the tides of satans backyard.
paired into thimbles animalia of the ark ghostown was crowded twisted against the thigh of calf
the oates recurrently wet their lips dreamy thoughts in the afternoon glow. harnessing with a caress through deep pools couples stare.
onion patch avoided, friend to the crumb, picked from a molar. was flicked across forgotten milk crates and down beneath the locker.
---Genevieve McConnell
"Thought is made in the mouth."- Tristan Tzara
“sonnez les cloches et nous aussi nous ferons sonner en nous les verres cassés les monnaies d’argent mêlées aux fausses monnaies les débris des fêtes éclatées en rire et en tempête aux portes desquelles pourraient s’ouvrir les gouffres les tombes d’air les moulins broyant les os arctiques ces fêtes qui nous portent les têtes au ciel et crachent sur nos muscles la nuit du plomb fendu”
Tristan TZARA, l’homme approximatif (via lepoucebleu)
