What is a dream, really? But reality taking sips of the nights’ air. I awoke this morning and felt electric! Absolutely drenched in luminosity. The space between my skin and bones galvanized by the flowers fomenting madness beneath my chest, around my skull, the spaces between my teeth— brimmed like one of those plastic tubes filled with pearly plasma and glitter you’d play with as a kid, remember? Loosely holding in your hand and shaking it with vigor— talking incessantly and shaking. The glitter’s swirling manically, rhythmically as you’re laughing, shaking and shaking, laughing and shaking, and just when you lose control you grab so tight. The gel, the glitter, all of it— pushes to the edge. You might pop it from being so daft! So fatuously restless and aching to burst! Dilatant and contained—the size of a push pin howling at the moon, who’s caressing the sun, who’s holding you there— small as a push pin, tight as a coil, expansive as the sea. Reality and dreams? Now they’re nothing but words, hon. You don’t have to believe me now, but do you?
acrylic on wood panel, 48” x 60”, 2019
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