Which Path? | 20 x 16 x 1.5 inches | Acrylic and Acrylic Ink on Canvas | November 2018
Lost Art, Losing Connections | Original Poetry by Magdalena Munro - November 2018
He walks alone —
The sound of his boots
cinching an unpaved path
sounds like marbles dumped
from the garbled throats
of noisy crows.
Scrappy hardfought hands
swing back and forth in a
disjointed unplugged union.
Behind an empty park bench
rests the dusty mug once
called nature.
There she is in her
own world —
An enormity of a rock
cinching an unpaved path
sounds like marbles dumped
from the garbled throats
of noisy crows.
Scrappy hardfought hands
swing back and forth in a
disjointed unplugged union.
Behind an empty park bench
rests the dusty mug once
called nature.
There she is in her
own world —
An enormity of a rock
juts from the center like a
clowntown pitcher's mound
and a woman is sprawled on
the stony surface making out
with the wily evening breeze.
She knows nothing of lost
old women in distant cafes
arguing with line segments
and points of reference
or of crumbled boys with
She knows nothing of lost
old women in distant cafes
arguing with line segments
and points of reference
or of crumbled boys with
pumped up brows losing
battles on order and chaos.
Littered on the fair grounds
is a half won Rubik's cube —
Littered on the fair grounds
is a half won Rubik's cube —
She picks at the outline of
the sparkly iron-on patch
casting reflections from the
renovated ball park's ebbing
the sparkly iron-on patch
casting reflections from the
renovated ball park's ebbing
lights.
A stray cat slips in circles
through the park and clicks
its nails in unison with a
narrowing of silver eyes
narrowing of silver eyes
watching her
watching him.
