The Poetry of Place, Brick, and Stone

The Poetry of Place, Brick, and Stone

Spinozablue welcomes new poetry by S.R. Brown, Stephen Mead, and Duane Anderson.

Secular monasteries of the mind. Byzantine, Gothic, Romanesque ruins of the unconscious. I dwell in the space between ancient walls, vaulted ceilings, piazzas, and naves, bereft of their original spirits, inhabited now by something else. By my own pantheon — if I could will it.

Monastery. Photo by Tama66 (Pixelbay).

Watching Verhoeven’s Benedetta brings this full circle. Searching later for monasteries and abbeys online, going back to scenes from that film, I can see the illusions people create, how they need to be in those spaces too. Centuries later, with rare exceptions, these structures don’t hold their youthful majesty. They need nuns, townsfolk, artists, and writers to carry them fully into Being. Not tourists. Goddess forbid! But how to hide that from the locals?

Another turn for me in my paintings. Using the software program Krita now. Going back and forth between it and GIMP, primarily. Krita has a brush, impasto, which comes the closest yet to duplicating what brush strokes really look like, so I’m enjoying the new images made. This also helps reduce the blurring effect that has marred too many of my previous efforts. As always, comments are welcome.

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