revelation at 0400am

revelation

4am or one hour before the
beginning of the end of time
and i feel a sad dream falling
slowly through dimly lit trees like
petals of white papers with black
words touching innocent sheets
on the line in the shadows between
truth and deception, good and bad
melting into an aged rain that
bathes the grass at dawn with
the spit of shallow weeds and
medicated repetition as the
so[u]l[e]s of my shoes become the
legs of my jeans and the day/i
surface[s] gasping for air and light

5am another inch of time creeps out
of fragments of broken monuments to
step forward into fragile enlightenment
trembling under fresh green skies
orange horizons fall eternally backward
into silver ribbons of sun awake

6am sweep the patio clean,
lie to the earth, swallow the spaces
stop chasing citrus thoughts with
bittersweet aftertastes and just
gather up all the blue lemons,
add happiness, stir, and
make some lemonade.

copyright JANEisnotplain 7.09

---from the 0330am series

abstract

abstract

hotel room. i am lying. on the bed.
my brain. connections sparking in
my eyes. a black berry stain. on a
white dress. altered. a butterfly in-
side a glass bottle. transparent.con-
tain[t]ed. chaos is beautiful.like the
strings on a cello.floating face down.
black cat. green skeletons. blue air.
fog. rain. sunshine.twice. the sunshine.

JANEisnotplain 0325am 5.8.09

expose

expose

to bare
to confess
to disclose
to divulge
to exhibit
to lay open
to make known
to present
to reveal
to show
to view
to unveil
to unmask
to uncover

there is implied danger and vulnerability in exposure
yet, there is a certain freedom in choosing exposure

JANEisnotplain 4.18.09

self portrait #25: artist

self portrait #25 : artist


as an artist, i live,
by necessity, on
slim hope and/or
fickle inspiration
so luckless paths
are no stranger to
me. when i discover
my partner is dead
i just go on alone.


JANEisnotplain 4.13.09

in reference to the current state of medicine.

de-fragmented

de-fragmented


the keyboard is unfeeling and
the words are darwinian evolutions
perhaps even freudian re-volutions

there is only the exit and the clock
the monitor no longer sees or saves

self

i am
this file
is un-solvable
or should that be salvageable?

up-grades, up-dates, down-loads
automate, populate, disseminate

my mind ticks and clicks
while it waits for its reboot


JANEisnotplain 4.09

insomniac writings at 0323am

self portrait # 21 : free time

self portrait # 21 : free time


my soul is made of tissue paper and words that
i have dreamed of capturing on paper to set me

free

i am a thousand faces in a crowded street
following in footsteps that have not yet been made
i reach for trees from porch steps to feel their glow
sink into my rhythm and imbibe their colors
i inhale the soft ocean and exhale hues and shades
i like to watch the sky connect the clouds of mind
dancing in doorways connecting joy and discord
i fall inside/outside the patterns of repetitious heartbeats
singing an echo of an ever changing life-

time

JANEisnotplain 3.27.09

completed while enjoying the ocean in miami

self portrait #35: thirty-five

self portrait # 35 : thirty five


each new year is
crowding out the last.

soon, i’ll be alone in
a room full of selves
i have never met.


JANEisnotplain 3.19.09

happy birthday

stain

stain

you never think of
the fruit of a rose
the flower is too dark
and wonderful and you
forget its only a prelude.

rose hips stain the snow
now,like blood splatter and
you should be warned that
her kiss will leave toxins
soaking in your skin.


JANEisnotplain 2.09

1.20.09 CHANGE

1.20.09 CHANGE


every everything
is available to
every [thing and] one

abstract concrete
hidden showing
[time space]
conservation symmetry
united survival

we are happy and sad
hopeful and desperate
by choice of thought
observation and attention

this is a magnificent and
sobering responsibility

now is then and
this is now and
intelligent people
[places things]
realize now and then
is never ever
[always]

JANEisnotplain 1.20.09

on the inauguration of america’s first black president

i miss

i miss making her smile, dancing on her toes, sharing a meal. i miss late night journies, hot showers together. i miss holding her until she fell asleep, waking up to her music. i miss her touch, feeling safe in her arms. i miss her voice, her eyes, the way she made me feel. i miss her hands, her laugh, her stomach, her stubbornness. i miss the way my heart would pound when she walked in the room. i miss being in love with my best friend.

there is something about her that makes the spaces of my heart seem insufficient.
but she must know this: that i am neither gullible nor blind.
i know what she did, and i know who she did it with.
so what really is there to miss?

JANEisnotplain 1.09

self portrait #13

self portrait # 13

i am i and no one else.
i am the sum of atoms and
a sum of seconds. i cannot
transfer completely to someone else.

i string words with care
and pisceanly realize that
things can be communicated in
other more complete ways.

i have depth of beauty in form and ideas.
i am not a highheelstitbitch.
i wear flats among dandelions
and sometimes that is all.

art saves me from science. and
science saves me from art.

i have all the right potentials.
i just need an equal to
close circles in me.


JANEisnotplain 12.26.08

for the want ad project

mathematics

mathematics


mathematics is considered a dry discipline
depleted of life. devoid of emotion.
alive in weird scientific minds.
guarded by chaos.

mathematics is a higher order
of clarity and holy reference
a swirl of countable channels
for primitive line segments to
manifest in didactic series
of misguided well intentioned
left-handed-ness.

but mathematics really is a
beautiful means of calculating
abstract concepts infinite-ly
intense non-sense on the
relationship binding slope
of tangent line to the area
below the curve to the unseen
notion of sums overflowing
with wanting.

mathematics is simply beautifully complex


JANEisnotplain 12.8.08

November 4, 2008

November 4, 2008

obama. hopefulness. past present future. a humbling beginning. emotional light-headedness. a tingling reality. mania. vibrance, resonance, reciprocity. the un-calm of a generation. limitless.

JANEisnotplain 11.08

"BLACK AND WHITE"

this project explores the idea of color and the emotions that colors evoke. combining the theory of chromotherapy and text, this project is intended to push the audiences boundaries and comfort zones utilizing only two very minimal colors.

please share


JANEisnotplain october08




"BLACK & WHITE"

VALEDICTION

Valediction

dear r:

there are mornings i dive deep beneath my consciousness
and hammer until solid at things that i will say when
i catch you unguarded and surrendering to my presence
[ as i surrendered to you].

hypothetically, this moment is ours
but if i approach you from inside
[as you approached me]
with my hands around your neck
[as yours were around mine]
and lean in to allow the light to reflect from
my eyes will reflect in yours.
cheek bones in slow contact,
brushing you with trepidation
[“so close, but how?”]

valediction.

i have nothing to say.
i have only to remind you
that you were never up to me.


copyright JANEisnotplain 10.08

gut rehab

gut rehab



this moment was coming.

tearing everything in half
was necessary. [love] things spilled
onto the floor. marbles fell and
scattered, rolling out of the door.

the pots and pans clanged,
papers shuffled, years built
collapsed.

i tried to super glue, nail,
hammer, cement and screw.

i will sandpaper, shim,
and paint until nothing
original is recognizable
anymore.


copyright JANEisnotplain 9.08

on trying to live after R.

Reflections

Reflections

i am trying to understand how your heart operates. it is a remarkable machine, hurriedly competing over scarce resources, including, but not limited to, love by way of lust.

you are devoid of power, devoid of control, snatching it wherever you find it unguarded. and this stands as a barrier to your ability to participate in love.

you live life with a suspect heart that is manifested in a dramaturgic analysis of love within love.

and you can come, and come, and come to the same conclusions as i:

this is no longer [about] love.
this is not [about] humanity.

this is anthropology.
this is science.

the solution to your love[less] life is:

a redemption of the infrastructure of your heart as it is operating from finite resources, including but not limited to physically and emotionally violent men.

it is volcanic, an eruption for disaster.
it has turned your heart blue, then olive, gray, orange, then cold, steel.

my obsession with your machination proved to be detrimental to my survival, you see. i found little truth on which to live in your mechanical metal heart and so died. but not before seeing a reflection in the mirror of its hardened walls.

yes. you, and i, we were real. but my time as your tortured heart has become exhausted, outmoded.

and as you read the cold disconnect of my words, i am sure that you feel me in a way that you never felt me before. you won’t feel me again.

copyright JANEisnotplain 9.08

self portrait #15: post r

self portrait #15: post r

vital signs


pulse: irregular; uneven

pressure: heavy ; onerous

respirations: shallow; choking

saturation: depleted; empty

temperature: hot; cold



physical exam

head: unclear; with evidence of trauma

eyes: crying; unfocused

heart: bruised; some parts absent

lungs: black; unclean

abdomen: ulcerated; raw

extremities: amputated; immobile

neurologic: short circuited


assessment/impression

septic

decaying

dying

copyright JANEisnotplain 9.08

CUT

cut

my eyes are red from the inside out from the way my brain is crying
they are lodged like a smoke clogged traffic jam in my throat
i can feel the poison, invisible as it is, creep into my lungs
a cold monoxide of frozen blue/black preying on the warmth of heart

i wish i could cremate my heart and jump start it with the fuel of ashes
blow the black flakes everywhere and make it snow with fire

i want to escape these veins, these millions of capillaries which
soak my essence like a sponge, a vampire of foaming hexagons that
hold hostage my blood, the compassion that is my greatest pain

i want it out, this feel[th]ing someone has left in me
maybe just another sigh, another cough just to
blow my soul out like a forest through the eye of a needle

i am distracted throughout the day
i keep forgetting that i am supposed to talk, walk
and let the electricity run courses through my circuits
turn off, turn around, or turn the corner

i only wanted to fill my spaces with birds and trees,
flowers and butterflies that would sing me lullabies
and cradle me like the only baby doll in the world

instead i am coming close to roaming where the
periods mingle with the question marks

she cut me.
how could she?
how could she cut me?
out.

copyright JANEisnotplain 8.28.08

on the end of what i thought was true.

dear r: 8.16.08

8.16.08


dear r:

it was just the two of us
our sex and our despair
all day (accompanied by
a few other pleasures, sins).

photographs and shots, just
bits of pretending to be okay
for moments at a time.

there was dancing and singing
there was food and music but
mostly, there were lots of things
under the surface that cannot
be explained or simplified
under the influence of anything
more than a certain pain that
mostly goes unspoken because
words are just too simple.

JANEisnotplain 8.16.08

on not making love, i know its over.