july. thirty. won.

Anddd we’re back. This month featuring the illustrations of Jacob Storer. We explored with some new styles, writing and painting in tandem, one medium influencing the other – and some slapdash random amblings.

Enjoy!

1)

IMG_9088
One fresh off the press to start:
So many new bodies and edges and
Shapes
Distort the memories of your skin.
To now, where I would hush to see it.
Fall forward, as if it were a pool;
And never toe the bottom.
An early dust with cold blankets
And a bright, muted sun
a day to suffer a
Joyous rebellion
Your forearms
Still lifting
Still and ligaments
Soldered into some thick-clothes
Busting shock of ice
As a greeting.
Welcome home to the plains;
No cap here
Just thinner
And thinner sky
While a weighted car turns over
in its bed of metal.

2)

IMG_9087There’s that fear again.

Peeking around the corner.

Framed against the purple.

Come to sabotage through silence.

Through the dark.

Light makes the biggest waves.

Seem benign.

In their sighing.

As they slam into shore.



3)

IMG_9090dandelion
dampered

darling
design

delivered
desecrate

Bud, bud, just – relax

dood
don’t

Tell me to relax

Dialogue

Dinner
Somewhere

We spoke of patience earlier
And what that harboring
Could eventually unleash
As an ocean

Ribs spreading from within
Like fins from long ago
Our heads swell
With the sudden

Akimbo

Hold on we say
Throttling the dash
Amassing inner wealth
Over atrophy

We’ll rim around again

Certain

Have to look don’t we
Even when we don’t know
What we’re looking at
Well

Worth the business
Of looking

Or spreading the wings of vision
Over the clouded sun
Our spots grow
As we glisten

Full on the air of place
And decision
We’ll apply a straight line
To accentuate

IMG_9092

Thoughts like baleen
Unnerving sense of expansion
In crowded lines
Pointing both up and down

Bump

Bump

Lunge

Ralphed all on

Is it an aerial view
We missed all along
Instead of a wall dripping

Maybe.

IMG_9091
Pollen suddenly collects on the island and the corners disperse they seem to dwindle if nothing else and leave the rest of the shapes desolate of texture or populace as they spread from one island to the next to the next to populate and impose or direct the water’s flow now that the land has been had the land has been decided for, not with so attempted that it now submits to the growing blend

Too late for the islanders

Bridges have been built
Across acidic lakes
Cross-hatched parcels
Lent to one another

An endless stream of dirt
That will eventually compress into a crown
Atop the holder’s head
Holds them all up

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