Cami Park

Perfect strange

In Art, Confessional, Poetry on March 5, 2010 at 10:22 pm

Andrea Shear

Cami Park

Hot and perfect strange.
A blue island of
coral days
fathomed nights

a wreck of desert cities.

  1. I keep looking at this. It tugs at me somehow to see the coral days and the blue island together in non-space time with the desert cities tugs at me. Forgive me inserting myself into your images. When ever I get out in the desert, it feels so sea-like to me, and seems to place me the presence of some lost city I can no longer see. Sometimes there’s rusted and bullet riddled wreck that died out there. And sometimes the only sign of that is a pile of obsidian chips in a place where someone once sat on a flat boulder to made another kind of weapon. When I see these little shards, I pick up one or two and lay in my pale palm, then lay them back into their sand. I do this so that I know something has passed from one hand to another, over time, and back to the earth where it belongs.

    Thanks for putting something here that turns out to have yanked on my cord that way.

  2. Oh, thanks for this. I like seeing what comes of words put out there.

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