Fuego III

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introduction
a painting in words
...candles burning in eyes flashing with phosphorus light,
as if wool covering eyes with eyelids tattooed with rain
drops, sunlight... soothing thoughts about water before
eyes open to see mouths distorted, eyes bigger than the
other, heads as if skulls, lips hanging to loose shards of
air... Picasso's mouldy fruit from le damesoil on the edge
of the table... Gauguin's yellow Christ crystallised like
Hunter S. Thompson in Fear And Loathing... dreams
escaping thoughts or thoughts escaping dreams... the
sweet getaway of a pleasure in a dream... seeing birds...
cages... voodoo ceremonies... an octopus feverishly
mating... breasts draped and speaking their own words:
worlds within soft tissue...
§
most of these words are from journals i've kept
throughout the years: unedited ideas that spring at
random times like noises on a nightbus: shouts from the
abyss turned into poetry, but then again what is poetry if
it isn't a painting in words? if it isn't that authentic shit
that spews out after a few... or happens when days go past
photograph: Gavin Li
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