wild Uni-terus

It sheds me pure.
it steals me whole
smashes me raw
dusts me clean
starts me anew
with a lengthy review
violent push into peace
through the pieces
and whole
reconstructed anew




Top-hat-man and the 2 brown suitcases

I’m In the ruins of a mid 18th century building, alongside friends and strangers, all as close as the blood in my veins.

A man in a dusty, faded, black suit enters through the main hall carrying two small, light brown, leather suitcases. Under his left arm is a top hat. The settled dust on his shoulders makes him almost ghostly.

He silently positions the suitcases beside me, angling them as though he’s giving me wings and moves weightlessly through the echoing ancient living room.  I look down toward the suitcases with joy. No one else appears to notice him, the suitcases or my curiosity… I wonder why… My eyes are drawn back to Top-hat-man now sitting in a puff of dust on the once orange, once comfortable living room furniture… Or what’s left of it, which is no more then That: the worn out chair. … odd… 

I look back to the now open suitcases: Tiles…

My hands are running over them as my attention is drawn to a glow above me. A palette of images and scenes, disconnected, dismantled…I’m bewildered..but I can’t stop running my hands over these tiles. I place my eyes over my hands and see: the suitcase to my right carries black tiles of an unfathomable variety of shapes and glosses. All the same shade of black, yet completely different in their square/rectangular makeup….Hmm.. No odd shapes however…but these seem just enough! The suitcase to my left is filled with blue, yellow and red tiles. The suitcases resemble each other in the astonishing variety of perfect shapes, which seemingly binds them together… I’m as excited as I was when I was 5 years old and playing with my grandfather’s tools under the dining room table. The beauty that the top-hat-man has brought is as immense as I could ever imagine… The tiles are like piano keys under my fingers. The littlest twinkle of my littlest finger on the littlest tile creates an imposing impact on the scenes that take place in the glow above me. I don’t know where to look…at my hands as I am constantly creating even if my fingers just exist over the tiles, or at the glow of ever changing scenes…?! My awe has just been found… I try to show everyone else in the room what I have just discovered…but to do so I will have to stop playing with the tiles… and I can’t make myself do that! I look over towards the Top-hat-man, and he is as peaceful as a well fed baby; legs crossed on his chair, in his comfortable puff of dust, just watching me play… There is no describable expression on his face, but a comfort that bathes out of his being and spills through the room. I don’t mind that no one else is paying attention. Top-hat-man’s presence is reassuring enough and this everlasting moment of play is all I need.

The black tile stallions are galloping into an abstract array of color spills… And my fingers dance effortlessly into the ever changing possibilities!