Posted in Art, Poetry

To know me

Not that you need to know me
who am I to be known?
just another woman, abruptly sewn
into the fragments of your life.
I wonder, am I the thread
or the cut scraps of cloth?

Sitting, I ponder the sound of the
machine, taking my hands hostage.
I forget the texture that
ran through my fingers, just yesterday
or so it seems we met, unconventionally.
The melting clock of time.

the-persistence-of-memory   Dali
The Persistence of Memory 1931

I currently am enrolled in a Mixed Media art class to incorporate my words into pictures and looking at journal entries from November 21, 2015 I notice a mind set very different than I am feeling today and thought Salvador Dali’s famous clocks fit within my feeling.

What do you think? I admit I was not much a fan of surrealism before I took this class. At first glance, I am turned away from the starkness of unconscious thought. I admit it stokes fear in my mind. The loss of control. Then, because when I write, I am often in a dream state, an unconscious dig into my soul, I began to see the surrealist artist’s depiction in visual form, as a necessary evil. Evil? What is real is often painful to look towards but it also evokes a sense of power. The artist is able to control personal thoughts with words, materials and action. They put into motion a solution or at least present a riddle to solve.


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