Porcelain Cup

July 10, 2013

And held between my knees and this gray old cotton skirt,

A porcelain cup it rests, with swivels of you in melted dirt.

And inside these swivels of you, are looping, daydreams
Sparked by deeds, not done, and never ever to be seen.


Steam engulfing reveries swimming in my pretty porcelain rivulet.

And all the while I take long

loud, visceral, sipssss

Close my eyes and let the vapor stroke my eager thirsty lips.


Sitting here, tapping my foot to the beat of my pen
Imaging you walk through the door,

over & over again & again.

Foam tracings of what was once suppressed, now expressed.
And I delightful in it’s proclivity towards daydreams tasty & undressed.


Oh so flushed and out of sync,

my fancy for you makes me re-run & over-think.
Proliferating feelings of upside down, right side up, see-through, covered,

 so in & sane this love drunkard.


But until snow and wind freeze you on my way.
(Warmth being the thing you feel with everything I say.)
I’ll spill my ink on willing leaves and scribble away brain waves.
Stare into heated porcelain and see visions;
Falling leaves falling for me, jellyfish stinging you in your head and  having you wake up in my storm happy bed.


Transparent cravings bottled in the angst of firmly, fixed fingers
Pressed against floating like fuzzys, sealed in my coffee rim figures.

Man Ray, Self-Portrait with Camera (1930) and, left, Solarised Portrait of Lee Miller (1929)

“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. “

Shut Eyes Kept Breath

July 5, 2013

That’s where she existed best.

In the dark, in the light, high upon the rafters,

Perched above the clamor of civilization.

Where fog embraces light in the form of bulbous clouds.

Where the pangs of sorrow are dulled by the atmospheric civility that only floating can offer.

Where tears find home in rain,

Calmness in the breath of nothing,

and stillness in the charm of fluttered roses.

And just the mere possibility of all this, that desire to break free from skin,

It cruised beneath her heart and pushed against limp veins.

Like leather tightly wound against screaming bones,

She felt the itch of wanting to escape;

To melt past rattling walls and bursting bubbles.

But only with shut eyes and kept breath could she find the courage to leap.

And spinning in the solitary moment of her first step was truth flashing upon somber lids.

It was in the rain,

It was in the wind,

It was in the beat of the sun

and in every crater of the moon.

She was interwoven in the bliss of this deserted place.

Every night bathing in the light of the stars

And every morning dancing with a flock of wings.

In her despair she had surrendered to the dream and found triumph in the crux of her soul.

Pirouetted in the divinity of absolute mirth, alas she was home.

Facing Up

April 24, 2013

Punch-drunk in a persuasive sea

I am caught in a bottle bound for beleaguered shores.
And around me dizzy trees and mountains roar.

Clouds shock themselves into tears

While I stare, facing up, thinking of you my dear


Tip-toeing inside the black, you gently waltz across evening shadows
And suddenly whizzz across the sky like an eager arrow

And all the while inside this noisy night
Pondering is swallowed by the twinkling of lights.

Etched between the moon and stars
are the arches of your smile and your lips, the hue of Mars.

And while I want to crash inside your heavens dust,
You cannot hear me above the oceans rust.

And though the sky has not offered its hand

I sit watchful with each breath ready to compress then expand;

Until the dusk peels back its skin

And I am kissed by dawns begin.







By Magnolia

The Sixth Element

March 3, 2013

By: Magnolia

I sat in silence, squeezing at the first fruit I saw in sight.

And as I crushed it,

Bruised, its tears bled between the angst collected in the gut of my palm,

And It absorbed my pain.

I wanted it all to cease




And every element known to man, in which I supposed I could survive without.

Starved my body would wilt, but with you, my Sixth Element,

Through you my being is infinite

My divinity and happiness

Defined by the mere possibility of being cradled inside the womb of your arms

For together, we are a monochromatic combustion of harmony.


But I lament,

For I have the feeling, that you are far away;

Your spirit near but your body,

It’s far away.

And as I watch the world roll by,

And fill my mind with ideas, materials and longing,

They all rot away;

Insignificant without you.


The sea, earth, sky, fire, wind, and you, my Sixth Element.

The crucial crux to my existence

You are my thoughts final burial place.

For no matter how busy this sphere gets

And I busy in it, will there ever be

A substitution for this feeling

Created and filled,

In what would normally take a thousand lifetimes,

By the life captured inside the streams of your rising chest


Your breath is my sixth element,

The released & genuflecting wave,

The tectonic shift,

The fearlessness at the edge of a cliff.

The exquisite point to which all else rotates.

And your skin, a road-map leading to the tip of your lips;

The place where all longing is quenched,

And where silence is arced into shapes only seen by me.


 You have shifted the melody of the sun and moon

With my nights being consumed with closed eyed images of you

A kaleidoscope of possibilities trapped inside of me.

With my eyes, never asleep for you.

And my days locked in the knowing

That no matter what I do or how much I grab,

You are the only thing, that I must, I have to have.


As warm air billows its way into the sky pushing the clouds up, it begins a process that creates dark, ominous, whipped shaped clouds accompanied by flashes of veiny lights that spark a symphony of grandiloquent roaring thunder that drive most people to take cover, all, but nature photographer Camille Seaman

Born in 1969 to a Native American father from the Shinnecock tribe and to an African American mother, it was Camille’s experiences growing up spending hours playing in the woods or at the shore with her cousins that began to pixelate the picture-perfect calling of a life destined to be spent behind a lens.

Camille attended the State University of New York at Purchase where she studied photography, but it wasn’t until she was 32 that a passion was awakened in her to communicate her experience on this earth and to ‘show the beauty and interconnectedness of everything’ through the eye of a camera.


Camille’s photographs of clouds and icebergs have found homes in great publications such as the National Geographic, Time, The New York Times Sunday, Newsweek and Outside, to name a few. She also has received many awards including a top honour in 2008 with her solo exhibition, ‘The Last Iceberg’, at the National Academy of Sciences, Washington DC, which focused on the delicate environment of the Polar Regions.

What makes Camille’s photographs special is that she limits the amount of editing by not using a photo if it takes over a minute to retouch, as well as not using any filters, contrast or saturation to augment or alter the photo in order to maintain the integrity of the image. There are moments where nature develops a type of composure, whether that’s the calm before the storm or the stillness of the ocean where an over 100ft glowing iceberg sleeps, that allows for Camille, with heightened observation to capture the subject in its most striking state with the help of mother nature’s natural lighting demonstrating the inherent pulchritude of nature as itself, raw an unfettered.

This level of artistry requires heightened patience, with emotions and instinct playing a major role in capturing the perfect picture. ‘When the emotion is present, whatever the emotion might be I then question what is making me feel this way, it is only then I raise the camera to my eye and use it as a sort of geiger counter moving the camera around as I look through the viewfinder until I hone in on the source of what is causing the emotion in me.’

cs  Her hope in capturing icebergs and clouds in its gaudy exquisiteness is to have people awed into consciousness over the importance of developing a sustainable attitude and consciousness towards our interconnectedness to nature and how we affect it and it affects us. She explains during the Look3 festival of the photograph, ‘People need to be reminded that we will not survive as a species. We do not operate separate from this eco-system that we call earth. We’re very much integrated and if anything we have shown how much we do affect it, whether it’s an oil spill or an extinction of species due to something that we did. It’s something that we should be aware of it.’

Her latest project involves photographing captive wolves and wolf hybrids, subjects that are neither wild nor domesticated, in order to bring awareness and to start a discourse about what it means to be wild and what motivates humans to interfere with these two worlds.