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| Collage, Leslie Avon Miller |
We need words
That ring like bells
Through cool air
Taut with sun,
that smell
like grass and violets
that feel
like sitting on moss
by the stream
listening to
songs of woodland birds,
words that bring
fresh air into our lungs.
That ring like bells
Through cool air
Taut with sun,
that smell
like grass and violets
that feel
like sitting on moss
by the stream
listening to
songs of woodland birds,
words that bring
fresh air into our lungs.
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| Collage, Leslie Avon Miller |
Words that bring us
visions of baby robins
trying to use their wings,
early tinted light
on the horizon,
tiny ants
swarming in and out
of their granular hill.
visions of baby robins
trying to use their wings,
early tinted light
on the horizon,
tiny ants
swarming in and out
of their granular hill.
 | ||
| Collage, Leslie Avon Miller |
Distant hum
of bees on plum blossoms,
sensation of sunlight
on the skin,
a moment of peace
in a hidden place,
hearing the sound
of water over rocks,
something to make us sigh
that sigh
when all tension
releases
and we’re
of bees on plum blossoms,
sensation of sunlight
on the skin,
a moment of peace
in a hidden place,
hearing the sound
of water over rocks,
something to make us sigh
that sigh
when all tension
releases
and we’re
Just there.
These small collage on paper incorporate fragments of the photos I discussed in the previous post entitled Found Paintings. I find old walls, a partially decayed leaf frozen in a puddle and a found hand print to have a quality of mystery; of a story only half told.
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| Collage, Leslie Avon Miller |
The quality of enigma engages me and makes me want to know more, to ponder what else might be there half hidden.
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| Collage, Leslie Avon Miller |
To add to the puzzle, I added fragments of a poem I found engaging. The poem is called
The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski. Some of the words are from an essay entitled
A Language Older Than Words by Derrick Jensen.
There is something about putting my hands on paper and moving small bits around that can make me sigh that sigh when all tension releases and we’re Just There.
Each collage is open to interpretation, and I hope acts as a a doorway to our own thoughts and feelings hidden beneath the surface of polite everyday conversation. That's where I prefer to live my life; a little deeper, a little bit richer, a distance off the beaten path.
I don't know who the author is of the poem I posted at the beginning of the post about needing words. If you do, will you let me know?
