"Voyage to Murrlis Sea"
What shall I write today? What have I left to write, when warmth is swallowed by whiteness and aqua-marine by gray? What is left when the fleur-de-lis becomes a black sun? A language becomes a nap and a dance becomes a dream, a sleepwalking. Red stags turn into white ones--and then they die. And the blue beneath my wrists writhes like a slug--what have I left to write?
"The Untold Story"
White whales or white elephants, what's the difference? I never forget, but I become lazy toward the chronicler. Ships and chairs hold little interest for me, save in filling time. Coldness arches toward my brow--I long for night, to fill my head with color. Red and black make cerulean.
"Lilac Dreams"
An apple by any other name would taste as sweet, but today the sweetness is gone. Lions only revive it.
"Heart & Soul"
Colored squares fall in columns, making me think of Atlantis.
"Dreams of Atlantis"
Where is the two-tailed cat, and why is it human? And why is there no new art?
"Dance of All Seasons"
Make up your mind--is it to be a pine or a palm? A mountain or an ocean? And I feel as if I hang from the ceiling, like the Babylonian wonder, staring at nothing. I am cold.
Betcha can't tell me what that meant? C'mon, give it your best shot!
P.S.: There is a link somewhere on this page to the translation! Email me with your guess, and I'll tell you where it is!
All art by Josephine Wall
