Words and Images from the BATTLEFIELD series
The Merciless One
Lay bare witness ahead of this thread
In hurt and foregathered minefields
Of tiniest men and forest resistance
in the grazed and play of shared beat
Impossible obstruction, these sayers of sooth
These monsters of truth, these men of means and artifice
Stippled naked and fought with might
But a simple compound fracture, to repair
In the darkest of dark nights
Grown amongst insubstantial muds
and suffocating bleach water
And still, she rose.
the luminous sun.
Grit fairness awaken this head
Outside the girth and weathered wheels
Of largess woman and poorest existence
In the pain and joy of scarred wheat
Impassable construction, those layers of loot
Those beasts of cooth, those women of sacrifice
Clothed in your means and drawn tight
But for a single faction, to compare
To the locust of rights
Glows against the substantial rutts and muffled cool ice
And still, she has risen
the perilous son.
Fit awareness has shaken the bed
Inside the hearth of feathered heels
Of uncanny glen and the coarsest stance
And the gain and coy of furthest heat
Unstoppable liquidation became a hoot
These meats of vermouth, those fibers of rice
Bound by your seems and pulled tight
Mounted by fractions, and styled hair
And the focus of might
Rows forth these financial mutts, with stifled lice
And Still, He has risen
The voluminous Gun
Glib stares awkwards the web
Internal bounds of tethered steels
Even in then... the hoarsest chance
Will wain and stall the torrid street
Whelped introduction plucked the shoot
And again, says the sooth, that shire of mice
Found by the stream and mired might
Anointed by actions and frazzled scare
And the bogus of flight
Tows North with specialized sluts rifled twice
And Still, It has risen
The Merciless One
excerpt from BATTLEFIELD
a word and visual exploration series from Erin Thomas
They listen, carefully
to their guide
that the stick deters the wolf
better than a bah.
They love, fruitfully
with their eyes
that the sheerer
soothes the skin
better than the rain.
I would love to tell a story about this human figure that's wearing a zucchetto and carrying a bunny across a desolate landscape, but I think in this case, it's more important that the viewer fills in the details and tells the story for themselves.
Images shot from the passenger side of a moving vehicle.
York County / Southern Maine
All images ©2020 Erin Thomas
email Erin Thomas
Every spring for the last twenty-some-odd years I've stopped somewhere along some road side to grab a few cattail stalks to make india ink pens.
It's fairly easy to do...grab the driest ones, fairly thin, and carve the tip into a point with a utility or x-acto knife. You can also run the tip of your knife through the tip of your pen and split it in the middle like a calligraphy pen for even better ink welling.
I decided to make a small stack of cards using watercolors for the background, and the cattail ink pen for a drawing on top.
When I need a little breath, and maybe some inspiration, I head up to Mount Agamenticus in York County Maine...I can see the mountain from my inland home from fall until the full spring bloom...and it's only about a 30 minute drive for me to get there.
The top of the mountain offers walking & hiking trails, stunning views on all sides...views of the coastline & the mountain ranges all the way to New Hampshire and little glimpses of lakes and structures around the area and an endless sea of trees....but for me, it's the colors and textures that always capture me...an ever changing feast of leaves, branches, blooms and bugs in various states of decay and birth.
Capturing what I see and feel and sharing it eludes me....and so it keeps me captivated with the challenge of bottling it up for keeps. And so begins my annual spring art obsession with Aggie.
p e a c e & l o v e
keeping up with the down
You were followed,
for a long time.
& the sounds of screeching strings
echoed in tired ears.
Keeping up with the down.
You are hallowed
for the song line.
Too pretty, too ugly.
Fractured mind games
& the rule of Kings
Repetition of mired self hating tears.
Losing ground with the Glower.
You were hallowed out
for the wrong time,
Oracle of things.
Knew better than even the
repetition in a mired tear.
Losing ground with the frown.
Unplowed but sown,
Never so fine.
running of rings
& cauterized seer
Forecaster with the self appointed crown.
Keeping up with the Down.
My husband brought an axe home just for me. It's a perfectly me-sized mini-axe that I can carry around with me while I walk the dog in case a sick coyote challenges us, or I can use it to cut down the small trees that try to take over my garden ...and I can slice the vines of poison ivy that snake into my space every spring...but...in my mind, i want to chop down everything....EVERYTHING.
Yes, this is a political post.