Bees, wind, pollen, cigarette butts, rain, gravity and gravel, a sliver of green washed over in yellow, demonstrations of world(s) colliding, transmuting suffering and sacrifice, for yield and yielding, Citrinitas.
-Joshua Fleming
Tag Archives: photography
“Every time we walk along a beach some ancient urge disturbs us
so that we find ourselves shedding shoes and garments or scavenging
among seaweed and whitened timbers like the homesick refugees of a
long war…
Mostly the animals understand their roles, but man,
by comparison, seems troubled by a message that, it is often said,
he cannot quite remember or has gotten wrong… Bereft of instinct,
he must search continually for meanings… Man was a reader
before he became a writer, a reader of what Coleridge once called
the mighty alphabet of the universe.”
-Loren Eiseley
Image by: Joshua Fleming
What We Know For Sure
I know you…
maybe, maybe I knew you,
what parts of you / you would allow me to hold in relief
without anxiety or disbelief,
an abstract painting to distribute your personage into an identity I could rely upon.
A door frame I could enter and exit without questioning
the house that is ruined,
or on fire,
or so delicately arranged as to mirror the heavens.
What do we know, who do we really know?
The stones seem the same
holding their positions like guardians of an unknown kingdom,
yet they too shift their shadows in relation to ground
reaffirming its position.
Uncertainty that is what we know or what can be actually known,
a infinitesimally small potential particle of glass,
shattered in the rearview of language, perception and belief.
As we are the passengers and drivers of reality
reaffirming itself in conversations about who we are and where we are going…
-Joshua Fleming
Inspired by: Michael D. Jackson, Lifeworlds
Image by: Yamasaki Ko-Ji
I saw it,
life…
emerge from the frame
the papyrus saturated in heavy dew—rubedo—the redding dawn.
before it was none,
now a face is appearing smiling-in a memory left unsettled.
removed from time,
a ghost appearing to welcome remembrance into a reflective mind.
the image stays on the square—although it is drawn into the dream,
the circle,
where past and present collide
exposed in the darkness of regret and loss,
the future has now arrived in the golden light of dusk,
I miss you dearly, until the dawn.
-Joshua Fleming
The Mimic and The Mimesis
Nomadic agency was quilted on the farm
boundaries-patterns emerge,
to be sewn to the edge of what feels to be safe—————distanced from the phenomena yet to be encountered.
Demarcated threads of who we are, who we were
stitched in prior knowledge of space—
-a background of unchanging identities carries no light to the edge of the pier.
Horizontal lines of earth and fire
transversed by the vertical,
the depth of air and water.
Boundaries-patterns dissolve in the sinking abyss
rising over the reflections—the many faces we wear
flying out on the wing,
receptivity to the space-between the mirror and its projections.
Let us begin with the unexpected.
-Joshua Fleming
Image by: Yamasaki Ko-Ji
The Mimic and The Mimesis
Nomadic agency quilted on the farm
boundaries-patterns emerge,
to be sewn to the edge of what feels to be safe—————distanced from the phenomena yet to be encountered.
Demarcated threads of who we are, who we were–stitched
in prior knowledge of space—a background
of unchanging identities carries no light to the edge of the pier.
Horizontal lines of earth and fire
transversed by the vertical,
the depth of air and water.
Boundaries-patterns dissolve
in the sinking abyss,
rising over the reflections
the many faces we wear
flying out on the wing,
receptivity to the space-between
-the mirror and its projections.
Let us begin with the unexpected.
-Joshua Fleming
Image by: Yamasaki Ko-Ji
Veils
In this square the air tears away at the flesh, eats of the rock, mars the stone, removes the fossil for the comforts of its satin wave, a breeze is blowing through the curtains, and spring mornings that come, I am young and just waking from a dream.
-Josh Fleming
Image by: Tatiana Gulenkina
http://www.tatianagulenkina.com/cyanotypes#/id/i11319896
The Edge Of Things
We mistake our downward-spiral for that of the world, the radiance of forgotten suns, leaden doubt, to sink with the heavy weight of seven spheres, or cast wonder back upon the ledge where we rest on the edge of things, raised to the octave higher, to the outer-most exteriority and back again.
-Josh Fleming
Image by: Tatiana Gulenkina
http://www.tatianagulenkina.com/six-hours#/id/i9418144
Behold
Behold…your lovely shell, unending, yet falling away, already it has begun, yet it outlasts the sun, the ripening and ruin of the flesh, the universes as far as every star, the wild musician, hear again, in silence in fury, followed by echo that is your own, torn apart but so complete, in solitude the mirrors disguise, yet languorously flows beside, fleeting birds that dive, into the waves made of nude twilight, as gold enfolds the shell, the corpus is complete.
-Josh Fleming
Remixed and Re-Imagined with words of my own from: Rainer Maria Rilke, Buddha In Glory and Stephane Mallarme, Little Air.
Image by: Tatiana Gulenkina
http://www.tatianagulenkina.com
-Joshua Fleming
Exploring Consciousness 