Sunflower Skins

July 7, 2010

Experiment 7: Metamorphosis

Filed under: experiments, prose — Tags: , , , , — Sunflower Skins @ 8:20 pm

Outside: stars blinked through shifting pockets of clear sky, clouds pushed around by early autumn winds. At times the moon interrupted the swirling darkness below—the serene, celestial divided by the horizon from the embittered, landed. And that space between our world and the infinite unknown, from my words to your ear.

Little changes take place every day. You either realize and acknowledge them or you don’t, but life continues more or less the same as before: the same as yesterday—or two hours ago—or the last moment that passed. Moment to moment. Larger changes, the less frequent occurrences: they are also either acknowledged or not—but far more intensely, either extremely embraced and personally treasured or equally denied, rejected, and distinctly ignored.

You step around a flaw in the system—in the marriage—but that one change was going to happen one way or another, whichever way you pushed the energy—whichever way you shouted, “Move.” The sky seethes with an eternity of choices, but you must choose and be bound by one only. You step around the manner and refuse to acknowledge its relevance, or you accept it and step forward.

No time to think of consequences.

Inside there is turmoil brewing, twisting your heart & your gut into true recognition of your place in this world. Because we only live in this world. We only have this chance. The transfiguration won’t be gradual this time—it will shake your entire life and perhaps those of a few others—but it will not affect the outside.

This system was built for metamorphosis. Your desperate decision, or your petty obliviousness, comes down to the physics of space—space and spots of light—the inner spark between us—the humanity either blazing or extinguished in your eyes.

June 4, 2010

Sketches, Experiment 2: Fireworks No. 1

Filed under: experiments, prose — Tags: , , , — Sunflower Skins @ 6:00 pm


And so Narcissus gazed, and loved, and in that love desired the image that was but an image of himself. And he cried, “Oh, would that I were able to secede from my own body, depart from what I love!” Wasted by his passion and consumed by grief,

strike across the pool, my hideous reflection.

Narcissus sees what he has done, sees the black water with the fire burning and the grotesque figure hiding in its shadows. There is a moment

pierced by Cupid’s arrows yet no mark appears on this once-perfect flesh.

of pure recognition, of acknowledgment and farewell, acceptance. Dissolve now, become now. And they mourn you, Narcissus. Yet the fire was pure; you were burnt by love, and though it destroyed you, it purified you.

there is no I anymore, but a flower remains.

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