We are now swinging into the second quarter of the Friday Night Lights Project and there is no sign of the light dimming… So once again, let your eyes drink in another Friday as seen through the eyes of Cindy, Ashley & this Lost Shark.
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grief squats
panting till the house stinks
from rust and lice
from blooms of mould
mice belly into floorboards
a hammer sleeps in the cupboard
father leaves the lawn
mother the baby
only here in the infamy
of drugged eaves
from swigs of fists
from drooling thoughts
christ
if God could see us now
the burnt toast and animal shit
all our hands empty
what judgement?
some old man soaked in immortality
so beautiful on Sundays
the table set
the gas oven
whistling
GN
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CK
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This postcard I am sending has the picture of a bee lovingly digitized wings resemble filigree emblem on a coat-of-arms hung by a castle door you might notice the copper colored sun of summers when visitors and their secret treaties secured the kingdom but now I am running out of things to say honey the distance stings.
AM
very cool that you’re continuing this.. love the pic and both poems but esp. touched by a.’s poem today..so sensitively painted and think we all know how it feels if we miss someone so badly..nice..
ashley sure captures the sting of it!
Thanks, Claudia. What I really love is ‘all our hands empty’, and the bursting blue of that photo.
Amazing picture and poem combination.
thanks charles,
cracking stuff this week, guys.
GN, so intense, contained, & seething. AM, beautiful attenuation. CK, wunnerful choice of image, right down to the spine in th lower right.
i see it all on the cusp of ex- & im- plosion.
thanks bruce, i was still on a high from the mushroom, in a tube collab, so pushed things to the edge. love the cusp of ex- & im- plosion…
Love it Graham!
Thanks Luke!
Gorgeous detail, GN. x