Words

from compost to rot, 

words placed together 

(composed)

are but apparently futile endeavours that are indicate glimpses of the sacred

reconfigured everyday notions

encounters between object and invisible phenomena

mining of personal 

and public discourse

from secluded chambers to the mind

Words Are Islands Are Mountains - 

memories of people and landscapes, colours, forms

what they left behind inevitably changing

composed into agile renditions of temporary repairs to memory

Words, like a clock suggesting specific routes for the viewers to follow in a spiritual resolve

Through a world broken, tragic and tumultuous, hollow

Where the word can meander through twists and turns

Words open up new routes to “surrealist” strata, 

such as delirium, enigma, paranoia and poetry, 

to avoid simplistic apprehensions of what is real and built around our naked sins.

Words

each word detailed in imagery of a path that mirrors a deep spiritual tragedy

lamenting the world left behind by thought

invoking a layered perception of places 

and other warehouses of religious architecture

Words

signify reservoirs that avow ancestral memory puzzles

contrasting interventions and playful gestures

unexpected forms that foster fresh mysteries

at first glance strangely familiar but strange

Words 

mystery and matter delivered in a rush of poetic illumination

that power of words to be reborn

to create emancipatory images for new stories of the dead

“as if everything were born in me or as if I were born in everything.” *

*(Argentinian writer Robert Juarroz. A veces ya no puedo moverme)