The day was overcast with billowy clouds above. The wind picked up and the long grasses rubbed against each other creating the sound of falling water. Groups of tourist walked around in packs, moving and looking in the same direction. Sounds of foreign tongues scattered amid the traffic noises wafting from the West Side Highway.
Red nettles and yellow flowers interrupted the greens and browns of the brush. The concrete rounded up to prevent humans for trespassing past the path. Folks tripped over and over again not noticing the edges.
One place beneath a building there was an intersection between the planned beauty of the landscape juxtaposed against the crumbing walls of a building in disrepair or construction. Red exposed bricks behind netting. Careful to cover the ugly from prying eyes. There was beauty in that exposed raw wall.
The underbelly of this concrete plane and this metal scaffolding holding up this natural element, there are layers of humanity and nature, hand over hand, creating spaces, to live amongst the natural world in this urban environment. We appropriate natural landscapes, delineate space, keep on the prescribed path and then wonder why we trip over raised edges. Our natural inclination is to get closer.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Compression
We are in the land of wandering vagabonds
compressed upon each other
disintergrating into the earth
while Jupiter watches on.
We are unstable when our footpaths
lead downward into the gaping mouth
of screeching beasts that snake
underground; only forward momentum.
A current of bodies carrying flint
in pockets, tinder-flame sparks
light the way, a grain of salt
in a concrete land, reaching skyward.
A current of electricity, lighting matches
combustible air, we can only move forward;
the past has already disappeared
down the throats of stark seagulls.
We are in the land of twilight
waiting behind glass for protection
if we do not bend, we break.
Let the waters wash over us.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
compressed upon each other
disintergrating into the earth
while Jupiter watches on.
We are unstable when our footpaths
lead downward into the gaping mouth
of screeching beasts that snake
underground; only forward momentum.
A current of bodies carrying flint
in pockets, tinder-flame sparks
light the way, a grain of salt
in a concrete land, reaching skyward.
A current of electricity, lighting matches
combustible air, we can only move forward;
the past has already disappeared
down the throats of stark seagulls.
We are in the land of twilight
waiting behind glass for protection
if we do not bend, we break.
Let the waters wash over us.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Wanderings
Bits of dreams stray into my waking day
a woman's voice singing into my ear
that I am neither asleep nor awake
reminds me of weeds creeping past
concrete. I await the cue to speak again.
There are vultures tapping on the door.
Their eyes slide across the edges
of the tempered glass, peeking in,
mouths open wide, like baby birds,
in anticipation. Don't let them in.
Six ravens fly overhead, black wings
against an October sky. I listen to her voice,
against the guitar strings, talking about an
ordinary day as I thread the needle to sew
the tear in the back of my mind.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
a woman's voice singing into my ear
that I am neither asleep nor awake
reminds me of weeds creeping past
concrete. I await the cue to speak again.
There are vultures tapping on the door.
Their eyes slide across the edges
of the tempered glass, peeking in,
mouths open wide, like baby birds,
in anticipation. Don't let them in.
Six ravens fly overhead, black wings
against an October sky. I listen to her voice,
against the guitar strings, talking about an
ordinary day as I thread the needle to sew
the tear in the back of my mind.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
