Unavailable Unique Visual Poems from the late 1990's
"It's a happy day." he does not intend to play any tricks - big diamond ringed hands pinned sketchy smiles up on cracking walls... our old dog's grave smelled appetizing and our stomachs do not betray us. A choir of voices sang, "There's a bolt on the door." But a sharp little stab of happiness made a black hole in his face, a blind eye above the other cheek, winking back. "Will sorrow be born of it?" he'll plug the possibility "I play nothing." twitching threads ran across his eyeballs in precise and misguided patterns like a ripple in a great goblet half-shattered, aflame, like a relic, adrift on a pool of hot wax where no wind can disturb. like an anchor attached to a battered statuette, dented and split. like you, on your head when you... "Powder off somebody's face." cut myself open. "Powder?" pull myself together. "Powder." there is always some that escapes. "I know," |
mixed on paper, 20" x 28", private collection
JAMES W JOHNSON