maryvorontsov

absinthe drinker

inspired by Degas’s masterpiece and a writing prompt, G-d bless em.

a tiny thought on Rone at MARS

I find myself on the unkempt and shabby premises of an abandoned house. Before my eyes, a vision in dusty…

The “uncanny” feeling in David Claerbout’s Unseen Sound

Abstract impressionism as the CIA’s propaganda tool in the Cold War

when / then

when the rays of light 
seep through 
a leafy crown
of the dome-shaped tree
who stands so still
under the traveling lamp
of Phoebus

dust

hush — say you, 
restoring silence 
over the forest of a room,
a single bedroom apartment

a speck of dust confronts 
your violence, 
minutely, in a hurry,
but dies away
when touches windowpane
caressing other specks…

***

How dost thou cover the ulcerous place
what unctions, potions, magic dost thou use
to skin unseen 
and film the filthy memories of youth?
what dost though use
to ope thy soul, repent, forgive,
forget misgivings
that oft bereft thy spirit
of blithe? 
virtue or vice? or both combined?
by acting fair? loving boldly…

emotions

too emotional
she casts the eyes to the ceiling
clasps her hands as though in a pray
to the non-existent G-d
assumes the looks of intensity
in the perpetual set of nothingness
what does she care about if she cares at all
hardly visible
cant be portrayed with painters or musicians
just like him
cant be perceived…

sailor

having scrambled many times 
upon the rock of life
and received many 
sound cuffs of wind
she sees a sailor’s face
shine golden 
looking at the sun
but charmingly chagrined
she touches it 
and drives the sailing stands 
of cloud traversing sky above
away from him
and slides into his mind
swipes it clean
and turns…