Nothing remains the same throughout the exchange of ideas. A perpetual metamorphosis.
Collectively they mimic each other.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
A Perpetual Metamorphosis
Lately, I have collected more fractured lines—numerous phrases—an ongoing project for the approaching 2015. The flow of information gathers in repetitious waves—more so than I originally planned. A thread of thought expressed earlier in the litany of phrases reappears later in the series, taking on a new casual reference.
• The artist M.C. Escher proves to be more of an influence on my writing than previously imagined. The patterns moving across the page as water, as mathematical equations. Honeycombs. Pixels of color. A row of birds shifting to young boys shifting to water oaks. • In the same sense of a clutch of dried, potted geraniums— the ones on the front porch— tightly enclosed fists. Yellow lion heads. • A metaphor on metaphors.